


Best Shot

by Theholyfandoms



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cancer, Cancer treatment, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-11 19:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12941706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theholyfandoms/pseuds/Theholyfandoms
Summary: Clint is diagnosed with cancer while the team is out on a mission. Clint doesn't want to bother his friends with the news and by the time they get back, he can't find the words to tell Bucky.(Or, where stubborn Clint is stubborn and doesn't want to tell anyone what's going on (but they all find out eventually))





	1. Diagnosis

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I would like to thank my beta readers who have helped me edit this (you know who you are and you are a lifesaver).  
> Secondly, I'm no doctor and I've never had cancer before, but it's come up in my life a lot in the past couple years and it's something I'm passionate about. With that being said, I have tried to do as much research as I can for this story including all of my notes from an Intro to Cancer Bio class last year.  
> Unfortunately, there's only so much the internet can teach you about cancer treatments and their effects on a person's life. Since every person (and cancer) is different, every story is too, so bear with me if it's not something you've experienced (that being said, if something is COMPLETELY different from what you know, please let me know).  
> Thirdly, tags will be updated as the story progresses.  
> Fourthly, I've put a lot of time and effort into this, so I hope you like it. Happy reading!

“Hawkeye, what’s your status?” Natasha Romanov, Clint’s best friend asked over the comms.

“Got eyes on the target, but not a steady shot. Cap, reel him in closer.” Clint replied, holding his bow steady as he tracked everyone's movements from a tree in the woods.

“A little busy, Hawkeye, you’re going to have to change positions.” Steve Rogers replied gruffly.

Clint groaned, climbing down the tree and running to a different vantage point. He scaled the tree, making it up to the top. The view was better from up there, but the effort to get up the tree was just enough to have him panting like a dog. He had not been feeling the best for the last few days or so, but he was pushing through it.

“Eyes on target.” Clint said, getting situated. “ready to take him down on command.”

“Take the shot, Hawkeye, I can’t get him from my position.” Bucky, the Winter Soldier said into the comms.

They’d been going after the guy on and off for the past couple of months or so. They led him to different Hydra bases, some full of operatives who they had been keeping tabs on. The past couple of weeks had been increasingly strenuous because the guy that they were after had been involved with a handful of civilian murders, which meant that the Avengers had to kick it into high gear and actually catch him.

Natasha was busy gathering intel, while Tony, Sam, and Steve were busy taking down guards and raiding the base. Bucky and Clint were on sniper duty, keeping their eyes on the outside of the base. They were making sure that no stone was left unturned.

Their perp had escaped the base, he probably thought that he was clever and had escaped, but Clint and Bucky had taken opposite posts where they had full coverage of the entrance.

Clint took the shot, hitting the target in a non-lethal position. It was just enough to take him down so that the rest of the Avengers could take him into custody, and they finally had their chance to take him in for questioning. After questioning, he would go on trial with the justice system to receive sentencing for his crimes.

“Got him. Now someone just needs to retrieve and retract. I’ll head back to the Quinjet and meet you guys there.” Clint said, descending his tree. He managed to get back to the jet quickly and started up the engines for a smooth take off when everyone else got back. He would happily spend the rest of the day in bed if he had the chance.

Bucky got back next, putting his guns in their respective places before coming to the cockpit to give Clint a quick peck on the lips. “Nice job out there,” the Winter Soldier hummed, dropping his gruff demeanor only for Clint.

“Feels too easy,” Clint told him, giving Bucky a small but fond smile after the kiss. “We spent all that time going after him... It doesn’t feel right.”

“Sometimes that’s just what happens,” Bucky shrugged because it did happen. Sometimes they chased them for what seemed like ages, and then it was all over in an instance. “You’re pale, are you feeling alright?”

“Me? Yeah?” Clint questioned, sounding unconvincing, so Bucky took the glove off his flesh hand and put it on Clint's forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he said quietly, turning as Steve and Sam dragged the perp into the jet.

“I’m fine. Probably just a cold,” the archer replied, moving Bucky’s hand off his forehead.

“Nice shot, Barton,” Sam said, clapping his hand on the archer's shoulder. “Still don’t understand how you shoot those things so well.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Bucky mumbled so only Clint could hear, going to help Steve remove Clint's arrow and stitch the guy up. They wanted him alive, so they had to refrain from letting him bleed all over the Quinjet. Made for easier clean up anyways.

When Natasha and Tony returned, Clint let Tony take the pilot's seat and strapped into his seat next to Bucky. He rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder and let out a tired huff. It had been a long, long day out in the cold.  

Not everyone needed to be there for questioning, so when they finally got back to the tower, Clint and Bucky put their weapons away and headed in the direction of Clint’s apartment.

“Pizza, go home, shower, bed?” Clint asked as they stepped out of the tower. “Or order pizza, shower, and watch DogCops while we eat pizza in bed?”

“Sounds like you are more interested in the second option, so let’s go with that,” Bucky said, then frowned as Clint coughed into his elbow. He took his jacket off, handing it over to Clint who was only wearing a thin sweatshirt.

“No-” Clint started, but Bucky cut him off.

“Put it on. If you’re getting sick, it’s only going to get worse on a night like this.”

“It’s like 50 degrees out, Bucky, that’s hardly enough to get pneumonia or something,” Clint argued.

“Just put the damned jacket on.”

They finished their walk to Clint’s apartment, and Clint quickly put in an order for pizza before shucking a few layers off and heading to the shower that Bucky started.

“Hi,” Clint hummed, walking into the bathroom. He stripped out of his t-shirt and underwear then took his hearing aids out and set them on the counter so they wouldn’t get wet.

“Hi,” Bucky said as he finished getting undressed. The soldier stood upright, checking his boyfriend out. Instead of saying something anything cute or endearing, his eyes widened. “Christ, Clint, what the fuck happened?”

Clint looked at Bucky, furrowing his brow. His glance followed Bucky's to the bruises that littered his chest, arms, and legs.

“I don’t know. Probably happened the other day. Didn’t do much fighting today, other than arguing with you this morning.” He replied with a shrug.

“They don’t look like they’re a couple days old,” Bucky said with a frown, tilting Clint’s chin up so he could read his lips.

“I’m fine. Now come on, we gotta actually shower so we can be dressed by the time the delivery guy gets here.” The archer said and pushed past him to step in the shower.

“Fine, fine.” Bucky all but rolled his eyes and stepped into the shower with Clint. He pinned the archer against the wall and kissed him slowly, just the way Clint liked after a long mission.

Clint smiled against his lips, pulling back slightly, “we need to remember to text Kate. Missing my pup,” he hummed softly.

“Mhmm,” Bucky indulged with a nod, moving his lips back to Clint’s.

Clint’s fingers found themselves entangled in Bucky’s hair while they kissed, humming softly against the soldier's lips. Their tongues tangoed with each other for a while, before Clint pulled back again. “Needa wash,” he informed Bucky, “getting all pruney and the pizza is going to be here soon. I’ll give you a good blowjob if you lemme get cleaned up. We can always shower again later, too.”

Bucky begrudgingly pulled back and nodded, but kept his hands-on Clint as he let the blond shift to wash himself. The soldier cataloged each and every bruise on his partner's body, making mental note to keep an eye on them.

It wasn’t unusual for Clint to be battered up like this, and Bucky was certainly accustomed to seeing bruises and scrapes everywhere. However, the past couple of weeks had been fairly calm. It was more of a chase than a fight by any means, so the look of the bruises new and old that peppered Clint’s body had him a little more concerned than usual.

He didn’t let his eyes linger for too long, letting his head dip slightly so Clint could massage a ridiculous amount of shampoo into his hair. Bucky enjoyed their domestic life a little more than he probably should, but he deserved to enjoy nice things. Clint was a walking disaster with a death wish, but Bucky still considered Clint to be one of the things that he enjoyed. In more ways than one.

By the time they got out of the shower, Bucky had just enough time to put on a robe and jog to the door to get their pizza. He brought it into the kitchen and put the box on a cookie sheet so they wouldn’t get grease on the bed sheets, and grabbed a few napkins.

He brought the pizza back to the bedroom and plopped down next to Clint. Clint had thrown some boxers on, put his hearing aids in and turned on DogCops while he was waiting for Bucky. The shower had opened up his nose and throat sufficiently, and he wasn’t feeling all that sick anymore, other than a bit of a headache.

When Bucky returned, they immediately dug into the pizza and Clint let out a moan.

“Oh my god, it’s been so fucking long.”

“Clint, you had pizza like a week ago,” Bucky chuckled, biting his lip. It’d been longer than a week since the last time they had sex, but who was counting?

Bucky was.

“It was weird Pizza, okay? Definitely not Luigi’s, they got the best New York pizza. Scores highest on my list.”

“Not the list again,” Bucky groaned, throwing his head back. The list was one that Clint updated frequently. He wanted to find the best pizza place in New York, so he set up a scale to determine the best sauce, cheese, mouthfeel and a few other categories based on price seasoning, crust, delivery time and overall taste of the pizza. He made sure that everyone knew about his list, so if they were ever in a pinch to find a really good pizza place, they would have easy access to it. He planned on making a similar list for coffee shops around the city but hadn’t had the time or energy outside of missions to start on his adventure (coffee isn’t as easily delivered to your doorstep).

“What?! Honestly this pizza has the best mouthfeel,” Clint said seriously, which only made Bucky groan again.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

“Mouthfeel? Oh, come on, don’t you ever watch those cooking shows I have on?”

“I do, but I’m fairly certain that no one, under any circumstances, ever says mouthfeel.” Bucky snorted, looking at Clint.

“They do.”

“Sounds too sexual. Definitely not kid friendly. Those shows are supposed to be kind of kid-friendly.”

“I can make it sexual. You just gotta let me finish a couple slices first. Which means you focus on the mouthfeel of your pizza, and not on the feeling of my mouth on your cock for the next few minutes. Definitely not kid friendly.”

With that, Bucky shut up. He could feel the blood rushing to the tips of his ears and the tip of his cock. He couldn’t focus on anything other than Clint sucking his cock right then and there, and it definitely showed when his robe slipped off his thigh.

Clint smirked smugly at him, enjoying his pizza and the view. When he finished his pizza, he moved the box aside and rolled on top of Bucky to kiss him. He pressed their hips together and the friction had Bucky groaning in a different way than he was moments before.

After a making out with him for a while, Clint’s lips trailed from Bucky’s lips, to his neck and down his chest and stomach. He paused when he reached the tip of the soldier's dick and pulled back to smirk at him.

“Might wanna get the lube ready, sweet cheeks. Thinking about more than just mouthfeel tonight.” Clint said, licking Bucky’s length and the precome that was already glistening at the tip. He pulled back again, biting his lip at Bucky.

“Right. Right!” Bucky explained, quickly shifting to grab the lube out of the bedside table because Clint didn’t have to ask him twice. Sex sounded good.

No, sex sounded great.

When Bucky had the lube in his hand, Clint went back to doing all things wonderful with his tongue and mouth. Clint knew how to work his tongue in ways that had Bucky writhing. He knew how to compromise the soldier in ways that Bucky never thought possible, but he loved it.

Bucky could go rounds without tiring, so Clint wasn’t about to ho held back. He took Bucky all the way in, Bucky carded his fingers through Clint's hair and let out a low, husky groan.

Clint had to pull back to catch his breath after a minute or so, letting his hands fingers do all the work. Bucky moved his hips with his hand movements for a while, until Clint brought him back into his mouth. Clint kept it up until Bucky came, wanting to make sure that his partner was satisfied more than once that night.

Bucky watched as Clint swallowed his load, trying his hardest not to thrust up into his mouth. When Clint pulled back, Bucky brought his lips up towards his own, kissing him passionately.

When he pulled himself together, Bucky shifted slightly and squeezed some lube into his hand. He carefully traced a finger along Clint’s rim and pushed it into him slowly.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Clint moaned into Bucky’s shoulder, his cock pressed between the two of them.

“You always do,” Bucky smiled, inserting another finger. He knew everything about Clint. He knew how he could move his fingers to make him squirm, so he did just that. He quickly inserted a third finger before Clint had a chance to protest, and Clint playfully bit into his shoulder for it.

Clint finally decided he’d had enough of Bucky’s fingers and wanted more of him. He moved his lips from Bucky’s shoulder to his mouth, lifted his hips and let out a small grunt. The soldier knew exactly what that meant, and he smiled against Clint's lips. Clint waited impatiently for Bucky to lather his cock up with lube. He was hard again, which was no surprise to either of them. They had long surpassed using condoms, they’d both been tested and since they were exclusively seeing each other, they didn’t see the need.

Bucky groaned as Clint spread his cheeks and sank down on his cock. He gave himself time to adjust before he rode Bucky, slow at first then gaining speed with every movement and thrust. They kissed, moaned, groaned, and just about everything in between.

“Fuck, Clint,” Bucky gasped. He loved nights like this. He parted lips with him for a moment, looking down at Clint’s dick. He reached his hand down to help get his partner off, and Clint’s breath hitched in his chest.

Clint slowed, leaning forward to cough into the pillow beside Bucky’s head.

“Let’s change positions, baby,” Bucky told him, giving his ass a gentle pat with his metal arm. He wasn’t necessarily pleased with the fact that he sounded like he might be coughing up a lung, but he knew Clint would only protest if he forced them both to stop. It was probably just a cold anyways.

Clint agreed, pulled off Bucky and rolled onto the bed so they could do it missionary style. Clint was flexible, so it typically worked well and he certainly wasn’t opposed to watching his super-soldier boyfriend fuck his brains out.

Bucky took his position and kissed Clint as he slowly pushed back in. He kept a decent pace for a couple minutes, hitting Clint’s prostate again and again. Clint shifted so his thigh was on Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky took that as his cue to push in farther.

Things quickly sped up, and Clint was soon coming between them. Bucky let out a small grunt as Clint tightened around him. He thrusted in a few more times before coming too. He slowly rode out his orgasm and kissed Clint passionately and lai6d with him like that for a while.

Bucky pulled out and they cleaned themselves up after that. Bucky never strayed too far away from Clint’s side, making sure he got the proper aftercare he needed. There was once a time where Clint hated all the attention after sex, but with Bucky, he had quickly grown to appreciate the tender touches and kisses while he let him clean him up.

When they were out on missions, they refrained from touching each other like that. They both felt deprived of a need, and it was nice to be back home where they could fuck each other senseless.

“I love you,” Bucky hummed against Clint’s lips, bringing his hand up to Clint’s forehead to check his temperature again.

“I love you too,” Clint responded, though he sounded absolutely exhausted and beat.

“Get some rest, you’re starting to feel warm again,” Bucky told him, pulling the covers up. He proceeded to wrap that arm around Clint's waist and pull him close.

“Gotta text Kate,” He reminded him, pushing the covers back down and wiggling out of his grasp. He quickly scrambled out of bed and tripped over Bucky’s robe on his way into the Kitchen. “Aww, feet, no.”

“Christ, Clint,” Bucky said, but he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m fine,” he grunted as he picked himself up off the floor and went to grab his phone out of his jacket. He spent a couple minutes rummaging around in the kitchen, trying to find a cold and flu tablet that he could take to help with his symptoms. While he was searching, he noticed blood drop onto the counter. The blood was coming from his nose, which he was pretty sure he hadn’t hit on the floor, but it was bleeding anyways.

“Did you send it? Can you come back to bed now? I’m gettin’ cold.” Bucky said after a minute.

“Yeah, be there in a sec,” Clint grunted, coming back with a piece of paper towel shoved up his nose.

“You’re a mess,” Bucky shook his head, “Is it bleeding bad?”

“Not so bad, nah. Also, I’m your mess.” He said with a cough, and Bucky gently pulled him into bed and under the covers.

“God, you’re a sap. Yes, you’re my mess” he hummed and kissed his temple. “Now get some rest. You needa get better soon. We still gotta’lotta of work to do.”

XXX

A month later, Clint still wasn’t better. He went from little coughs and less energy to sounding like he was hacking up a lung and sleeping for a good portion of the day. It never stopped him from doing what he wanted, though. He was stubborn that way.

“Clint, you need to go to the doctor,” Bucky said, handing his boyfriend a box of tissues.

Clint was curled up on the couch beside him, his nose red from constantly needing to blow it. The poor guy had been sick for almost a month now, and he only seemed to be getting worse. His cough was less airy and more of a painful hacking noise, like his lungs were trying to discard themselves out of his chest.

“Bucky, I’m fine, really.” He grunted, blowing his nose again. He then managed to cough and sneeze at the same time, and let out a rather distressed groan.

“Yeah, you look and sound fine,” Bucky rebutted, getting up to make Clint a cup of tea. Clint hated tea, but tea with lemon and honey was the only thing that seemed to soothe his aching throat. Bucky knew how to take care of him and it was one of the many things that Clint loved about him.

“I know you’re worried about me, but it’ll pass,” Clint promised, his eyes following the soldier's movements into his small, run-down kitchen. They hadn’t officially moved in together, but when they weren’t at Shield, Bucky was almost always at Clint’s apartment.

“It’ll pass faster with some antibiotics, Clint. They invented them for a reason, and it certainly wasn’t so that you could avoid taking them” Bucky said with an annoyed, yet caring sigh, pouring hot water over the tea bag in Clint’s mug.

Clint cleared his throat and nodded, blowing his nose once more. He didn’t have the energy to fight him on the topic, and he didn’t feel like pissing him off because Bucky was getting ready to leave on a mission. They never knew how long they were going to be gone for, and Bucky would rather come home to a healthy Clint than to him hacking up both his lungs. It was because he loved him, and because he worried.

“I’ll make an appointment, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said, rotating the blanket they had been sharing so he could use Bucky’s warm side while he was in the kitchen.

“You better,” Bucky grunted, and brought back the nice warm cup of tea for Clint and set it on the coffee table. He sat down and pulled the blanket back over his waist, pulling Clint onto his chest after the archer had curled into Bucky’s side. He brought his flesh hand up to Clint’s forehead and shook his head making a tsking noise with his tongue. “You’re clammy, and you’re running a fever again. If I didn’t have to leave in a couple hours, I would totally be bringing your ass to the hospital right now. This has been going on for way too long.”

The archer sank into his partner, and looked up at him, “I said I’ll make an appointment. Quit worryin’ about it and relax. I just want to cuddle with you and watch the movie before you gotta go. Our last mission took a month to complete and seeing as though Steve isn’t letting me go on this one, it could be ages before I see you next.”

“He’s not letting you come because you can barely make it up the stairs to your own goddamned apartment without wheezing. You barely made it from the bed to the couch this morning without croaking,” Bucky said, only half joking.

“I’ll make the appointment, alright?” Clint said, sounding slightly agitated but he knew Bucky meant well.

Clint had fallen asleep towards the middle of the movie and didn’t look like he had any intentions of waking up anytime soon. While Bucky felt bad leaving without saying goodbye, he didn’t want to wake Clint up. He carefully slipped out from underneath him and made sure the blanket was tucked around him tightly so he would stay warm.

Before he left, Bucky scribbled a note for him, leaving the cold symptom medicine he had been taking and doctor’s number on the counter so Clint wouldn’t forget. He left another note on the fridge, reminding Clint to eat and drink. Bucky had spent the morning cooking up a few meals for him, so Clint would eat something other than pizza while he was gone.

On his way out the door, Bucky kissed Clint on the forehead, scratched Lucky behind his ears and silently slipped out the door.

The archer woke up a few hours later and was freezing. His toes were cold, his fingers were ice, his head hurt and he was a little pissed off that Bucky hadn’t woken him up before he left on his mission.

The notes made it better, though, made him blush a little to think that someone liked him as much as Bucky did. Made him want to go to the doctor to make Bucky happy.

So, he called and made the appointment for first thing the next morning. He knew he was going to hate every single part of it, including having to be up first thing in the morning, but he was going to do it.

Clint hated when he and Bucky were apart. It was seldom that they were assigned to a mission without each other, so being away from him was different. Clint wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. They worked really well together, and despite being complete goons, they got the job done the right way.

Most of the time.

The archer moved from the note on the counter to the one on the fridge, and pulled out the homemade soup Bucky made for him. He spooned some into a bowl and nuked it in the microwave. While waiting for his soup, he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. It wasn’t until the soup was done and he reached for his bowl in the microwave that he noticed the blood stained on his sleeve. He shoved it off as blowing his nose too hard and didn’t have a second thought about it.

The soup warmed him up enough for him to have the energy to take Lucky outside. It was a quick trip, but long enough for Clint to be shivering again, so started a bath for himself like Bucky had been doing to try and help with his chest congestion. After that, he went to bed, and curled up with his pup for the night.

XXX

The next morning Clint somehow managed to pull himself out of bed to go to the doctor. He was a mess. His hair was standing up in all different directions, he couldn’t breathe out of his nostrils, and quite honestly it felt like someone was sitting on his chest. It was probably a good thing that he was going to the doctor, but he would never admit it to Bucky.

It was a struggle, really, getting out of bed. He had to set three different alarms, and shower, and remember to put his hearing aids in so he could maybe, potentially hear the doctor. That would be a good thing, right?

But anyways, he was there, like Bucky had asked him to be, and he was immediately regretting it. He checked in at the front desk, and they made him put on a surgical mask to keep the other patients from getting sick. So, not only did he look like a disaster, he looked like a sick disaster nonetheless.

“Clinton?” A nurse called, looking up from her file to the waiting area, “Barton?”

Clint rose and followed her back to the exam room. He hated everything that had to do with the doctor’s office. The white walls, the way it smelled, the weird scrub prints that were supposed to make everything better by adding a little bit of character to the nurses.

He hated the doctors most of all, mostly just the ones who believed his father’s stories so many years ago. He still held a lot resentment for the doctors and nurses who didn’t recognize the signs of child abuse. If they had noticed, maybe things would’ve been different for him and his brother. Maybe they would have forced his father to get the help he needed, and maybe, just maybe, Clint’s life would have turned out completely different.

“Is this your first time to our office?” She asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts gesturing for him to take a seat. “I’m going to need you to take your sweatshirt off so we can get an accurate weight and blood pressure on you.”

“Yeah,” Clint responded to her first question, then proceeded to take off the one thing that was sort of keeping him warm. He shivered immediately, and stepped on the scale for her.

“Great, thanks,” She said, making note of it in his chart. She brought out the manual blood pressure cuff, and put it around his arm and made another note when she finished.

This is the worst, he thought, the actual worst. He could be in his bed right now. He could be warm right now, cuddling with his dog and watching TV.

She proceeded to take his temperature, get his pulse and asked him about his family history.

“My parents died in a car accident when I was six, so I really don’t know. My parents were both raging alcoholics,” He said awkwardly, then proceeded to hack into his elbow, away from the nurse. “My medical history is pretty choppy. I was thrown around a lot as a kid, so I have sixty-nine percent hearing loss in my left ear, and seventy-two in the other. I have cochlear implants that help me hear, but my hearing hasn’t been checked in about a year, so it could be worse, could be the same. Eyesight is fine, 20/20. Uhm, nothing too out of the ordinary, I guess.”

The nurse nodded, making note of everything in his chart. “And how long have you been sick? How long have you had the fever?”

“Fever comes and goes, feel like I have a hard time breathing and getting around. Wake up sweaty and hot in the middle of the night, and honestly it’s getting a little unbearable. I think it started as a cold about a month ago, and now it’s this. Cold medicine doesn’t help. That’s why I’m here.” He was actually here because his boyfriend basically forced him to go, but he didn’t want the nurse to think he was bitter about it. He loved Bucky, too, so maybe he was doing it for love.

She nodded, “Alright, I think that’s it. Doctor David will be in to see you in a few.”

“Thanks.”

The nurse left, and the doctor came in. She seemed friendly, and her hands were warm, which was a nice change of pace from the nurse’s. She felt along his head and neck, then had him breathe in and out a bunch. When she was finished with that, she sat back in her chair, massaging hand sanitizer through her fingers.

“It sounds to me like you have the flu. Your lungs sound okay, not great, but nothing too alarming. Just to be safe, I am going to send you down to the lab to have some blood work done. Once you’re done there, you can go pick up your prescription, go home, and our office will call you within the next week or so with the results, or to schedule another appointment.”

“Easy enough,” Clint said with a small smile, thanking her as he left the room.

He did just as the doctor ordered. He got his blood drawn, making a poorly timed vampire joke for the lab technician. He picked up his prescription, making note that it probably wasn’t the best idea to say they were giving you the “good stuff” in a pharmacy. It was only antibiotics, but still. Then he went home, took his antibiotic, and returned to his place in bed to take a nap.

XXX

Clint received a phone call from the doctor's office the following morning. Instead of coming into their office, they wanted him to come to the emergency room that morning so they could run some more tests because his blood work was “alarming”. They never said why, but he wasn’t too wigged out about the whole thing. Maybe he caught some cool virus and he was going to be on the news for it. He could see the headline now: HAWKEYE BRINGS DISEASE TO NEW YORK. Maybe the reporters would come up with something cleverer.

He got ready, took Lucky out, then headed to the hospital. By now, he was wishing he had gone to the doctor while Bucky was still in town. Bucky was a lot better at listening to what the doctors had to say, and enforcing it with Clint whether he appreciated it or not. It was endearing really, and as much as Clint gave Bucky grief about everything that had to do with his medical history, he appreciated that his boyfriend was always there to try and help him through it, whatever it was.

He checked in where they told him to, and he put on another surgical mask to keep other people in the hospital from getting sick. A doctor’s office was one thing, but having to be in the emergency room had Clint feeling uneasy. It wasn’t just the hustle and bustle of New York and people harassing the nice ladies at the front desk, but the people who were coming in via ambulance and needed medical attention right away.

Clint was soon taken to one of the emergency room bays and asked to change into a gown so they could easily run all the necessary tests they needed. He had his own room, which was nice. What was not so nice was the mound of paperwork they wanted him to sign before they started hooking him up to a bunch of different things.

They took a couple of blood samples before hooking him up to an IV and a blood bag.

“Is this your way of telling me I’m a vampire?” Clint said, trying to break up the awkward tension in the room. The nurse simply smiled and shook her head. Rough crowd, he thought. She got him hooked up to a couple of monitors, explaining that they just liked to cover all their basis in the ER. She then put a nasal cannula, telling him that his blood counts were kind of haywire and oxygen typically helped to try and regulate it.

The next person in the room was a doctor.  He was young and good looking. The type of good looking where if Bucky had come with him, he probably would have immediately taken Clint’s hand in his, just to make sure he knew that they’re together.

“I’m Doctor Jensen, I’m an oncologist and hematologist here, and I’ll be taking over your case.” The doctor introduced himself.

Clint was busy making himself comfortable in the awful emergency room bed when he heard the word oncologist. It made him stiffen and make eye contact with the doctor.

“A what? Sorry, my hearing aids don’t pick everything up, but I could have sworn you just said oncologist. And if you’re an oncologist, that would mean that I have cancer, and I can assure you, I don’t have cancer, I have the flu.” Clint said, flustered. He always ran his mouth in uncomfortable situations, like it was his only defense.

“Mr. Barton, your body is producing abnormal white blood cells.” Doctor Jensen said, and spoke slowly for Clint, “When your body produces these immature cells, they don't do what they’re supposed to do; they can’t fight infection, which is why you’ve been sick for so long. Your blood sample yesterday showed a high amount of these white blood cells in your bloodstream, and while a few of them were not defective, several them were. This is usually a sign of Leukemia. That doesn’t mean you have it, necessarily, but we want to cover all our bases today, and get down to the bottom of this.”

Clint felt all the blood drain out of his face and a knot slowly formed in his throat. He was speechless, and for Clint that was saying a lot; he always seemed to have a quick retort for almost everything. Sure, it wasn’t always the most appropriate thing to be saying, but he typically had something to say. This was obviously something serious, and Clint didn’t know how he felt about it.

“With that being said,” Doctor Jensen continued, “I’m going to need to tell me more about how you’ve been feeling lately. Have you had any bone pain recently?”

“I mean, I broke my femur a little while back, and that’s still kind of bugging me. I have good days and bad days with it,” Clint answered steadily. People usually had pain after breaking their femur, right?

“Alright, and what about fatigue? Also, can you tell me where you got those bruises?”

“From the flu? Yeah. I mean, I... I certainly have been tiring out faster than I usually do, but that’s the flu, right? I mean, it hasn’t been this way forever. And the bruises? I’m clumsy, I typically have bruises everywhere, have since I was a kid.”

Doctor Jensen continued to ask Clint a few more questions, and Clint answered them. He was feeling a lot more uneasy about everything, especially since someone else's blood was currently dripping into his system. The doctor seemed to notice that he was growing distant from their conversation and decided to hold off on the rest of his questions.

“So, here’s what we are going to do. I am going to get you scheduled for a bone marrow biopsy, a CAT scan to check your organs, and an ECG to check and see how your heart is holding up. We are going to get those done today, and hopefully have the results back from the biopsy within the next couple of days. You seem to be holding up alright, which means we should be okay to check you out today while we get a treatment plan set in place. Seeing as though you have a lot of the symptoms that correlate with leukemia, I want you to get into treatment as soon as we can. The longer we hold off, the worse it’s going to get.”

So, they were assuming he had cancer, he thought. He tried to swallow the knot in his throat, his eyes dropping to his hands which were fidgeting in his lap. Rather than focus on himself or what the heck the doctor was saying, his mind went to other things. How was he going to tell Bucky? How was he going to tell the team? What was he going to say to them? He always knew he wasn’t going to live a full life but he thought he might have a shot at making it to his fifties.

He started to imagine the look on Bucky’s face when he told him. It would be like kicking a puppy, watching the joy and happiness slip from his eyes to a worried, more serious glance. It wouldn’t be a look that only hung around for a few seconds either, it would be a look that Clint was sure Bucky was going to give him every time he looked at him. The furrow in his brow, the crease in his forehead, the pout on his lips. Just thinking about telling him made Clint feel like he was going to puke.

When Clint didn’t answer him, the doctor put a hand on his knee. “We will get to the bottom of this, Clint, alright? If you have any questions along the way, just let me know. I’ll be happy to answer them.”

“Thanks.” Clint quietly murmured, and the doctor left.

About twenty minutes later a nurse came in to take him to get a CT. He was honestly a little surprised that they got him into the CT so fast. All the other times he’s had one, it’d took hours of sitting in an emergency room to get one. Not today, apparently.

CT scans always gave Clint the creeps, because one minute you’re freezing your ass off in the emergency room, and the next they put the contrast in and your entire body warms up like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s like peeing your pants without the embarrassment of doing it.

When the CT was finished, he was taken back to the room, where he was left alone for a while. He drew in a long, shaky breath, nearly losing his composure. He went through the entire scenario of telling Bucky again, which made him think of telling Steve and Natasha. If Bucky didn’t look like a kicked puppy when Clint told him, then Steve most definitely would. Natasha would hold herself together in front of him, but he knew her. He knew she would probably hold it until no one was around.

He thought of all the different ways that he could tell them. He could tell them all at once and rip it off like a Band-Aid. If he did it that way, Bucky would probably be upset that he waited to tell him, but honestly, that would be a minor detail. He could tell Bucky first and keep it a secret, that way he didn’t have to worry about distracting the rest of the team. But Bucky would probably tell Steve, and Steve would probably tell Tony and Bruce, then if he hadn’t died from cancer yet, Natasha would probably kill him for not telling her.

He went through hundreds of different scenes in his head, each different scenario frustrating him more than the one before. It wasn’t until the nurse came to get him that he could snap out of it a bit to focus on other things. And yeah, it wasn’t confirmed whether he had cancer or not yet, but the way the doctor explained it, he seemed pretty certain.

About a half hour after his CT scan, Doctor Jensen popped his head back into the room. “Hey, Clint. We got the results from your CT scan and everything was clear, which is great. Alicia and I are going to get a bone marrow biopsy from you, and that will be sent back to pathology. It will confirm whether or not you have leukemia, and tell us what form of leukemia you have.”

“A-a biopsy? Like surgery?” Clint asked, strain in his voice. God, he shouldn’t’ve gone to the fucking doctor, he thought.

“Not quite,” Doctor Jensen said. “I’ll give you a local anesthetic, take a small sample of your pelvic bone, and then another sample of your bone marrow. It’s quick and relatively painless. You’ll be a little sore after, but it won’t be anything too serious.”

Clint nodded, “okay, yeah, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

They had him lay on his side, and the doctor immediately started poking around on the side of his hip, asking the nurse for a couple of things. Clint suddenly became very aware of the bruises that were on his hip from Bucky’s metal hand. Clint had bruises everywhere, though, so hopefully his doctor didn’t focus his attention too much on those ones in particular.

“Alright, Clint,” Doctor Jensen started, and continued talking as he described the entire procedure in length. There were too many big words for Clint to focus on, and he wasn’t sure if he was hearing them right because his hearing aids were getting spotty--another thing he was going to have to go to the doctor for.

Before Clint had time to process any of the information he was just given, they were already done. Yeah, it hurt a bit, but it mostly just felt weird and uncomfortable. He was just glad they didn’t have to leave his room for it.

“Alright. We should have the results for this within the next few days or so.” Doctor Jensen said as he put a bandage on his hip. “As for now, just get some rest, and I will see how long it’s going to take for the cardiologist to get here with the ECG. We should have you out of here in an hour or two. You’re just going to have to finish that blood transfusion first.”

“Thank you,” Clint said. He was having trouble processing all the information he was just given. He wasn’t even sure that this was all actually happening right now. He coughed into his sleeve, suddenly very thankful that he hadn’t gone into one of his coughing fits while a giant needle was in his hip.

When they finished all their tests a couple of hours later, Clint was released from the emergency room and sent home with strict instructions to take it easy and to call if he felt like his symptoms were getting worse.

He took a cab home, warmed up a bowl of Bucky’s soup and curled up in bed with Lucky. Part of him wished that he’d never gone to the hospital. It was easier not knowing about his impending death, since it was bound to happen at some point anyway.

That night he stared at his phone. He wanted to send Bucky a text more than anything, but he knew that Bucky wouldn’t get it until he was on his way his way home from the mission. He couldn’t tell the poor guy that he had spent the entire day in the emergency room, not over text anyways.

So, he decided to wait, hoping that Bucky would be home within the next couple of days so Clint could tell him in person.

XXX

The next few days came and went, there was no sign of Bucky and Clint was back at the doctor. To say he was dreading it would be a horrible understatement. But there he was, back at the hospital to find out if he had cancer because even the doctors knew you can’t break that kind of news over the phone.

“You have what’s called Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia,” Doctor Jensen said. They had already done their introductions and everything so it wasn’t like a metaphorical bomb had been dropped directly into Clint’s lap. “We are still waiting for a couple of other test results to figure out which genes have been affected. However, narrowing it down to ALL means we know where to start.”

Clint simply nodded, just staring at the doctor. He had spent a little time looking up leukemia, he didn’t want to freak himself out too much, especially if it had turned out he wasn’t actually sick.

“General treatment starts with about a month of what we call remission induction therapy,” he continued. “The objective is to kill all of the cancer cells that are in your body by doing a week straight of intensive chemo. Then we’ll tone it down a bit and you’ll spend the next three weeks or so in the hospital while your immune system has a chance to rebuild itself. It will also give us a chance to run some tests and see how your body is responding to the chemo and how the cancer cells respond to the treatment, then we can put a plan in place to treat you.”

“Okay...” Clint said, bringing his hands up to rub his face. A month in the hospital. A fucking month. He could barely stand being in the doctor’s office for a couple of minutes, how was he supposed to spend a whole four weeks in the hospital? He was dreading it already. “When do I need to start?”

“First, I’d like to gather some stem cells from you, that way we can transplant them back into your body if and when we need it. The sooner we start that, the better...” The doctor droned on explaining everything in such detail. Having a port put in place, chemo; nausea, mouth sores, rashes. It was all too much to process, and Clint didn’t understand half of what he was saying. Clint needed Bucky to be home, and he needed him now.

The rest of that day consisted of giving stem cells, signing paperwork, and being told anything and everything that he needed to know about ALL.

They’d lost his attention a while back.


	2. Induction Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint spends this chapter in the hospital going through his first round of treatment called induction therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my beta readers. Ya'll are the best.

Bucky had already been gone a week, and it was driving Clint nuts. He couldn’t text him because Bucky wouldn’t get it until he got back home, and cancer wasn’t exactly the type of news that you break to someone like that. He couldn’t call because that would be pointless, too.

How do you tell someone you have cancer? It’s not like Clint had any real family to tell, he hadn’t seen Barney in years and he wasn’t even sure the guy was alive. He just had his Avengers Family and they were all gone on a mission. He could probably try to contact Tony, but Clint didn’t want Bucky to find out while they were on a mission and put him or anyone else on the team in danger.

Clint was packing up to leave for the hospital that morning when he decided to leave a note. He originally wrote; “I have cancer. -C,” but thought that probably wasn’t the best note to leave.

So, he bunched it up, threw it away and wrote “In the hospital. -C,” but figured it might be a little hard for Bucky to figure out which of the hundreds of hospitals in New York the archer might be in.

He threw that one away too and finally chose to write; “Give me a call when you see this. -C.” He put the note on the fridge, put on his purple beanie and headed out the door.

He had already said goodbye to Lucky the night before, enlisting the help of a girl named Kate to watch him while he was gone, or hopefully until Bucky came home. It wasn’t his first time leaving Lucky with her, so he didn’t have to worry about him, thankfully.

The blond stopped by his favorite coffee shop on his way to the hospital. It was going to be his last day outside for the next month or so, so he figured he’d walk to the coffee shop and take a cab the rest of the way. He ordered his usual, sat on their patio and soaked in the sun.

He took in the beauty of the city, watching people enter and exit buildings as they started their work days. He started thinking about how everything in New York was starting to feel too normal because everyone could go on with their lives with ease, even after all the tragedies that had happened right in the heart of the city.

He quickly decided to think about something else, because thinking about the tragedies made him think of his own tragedy and he was going to be doing a lot of that in the hospital the next few weeks.

His mind continued to revert to telling Bucky. He wondered when his significant other would be home, and when he could tell him. Sometimes their missions ran on for months, but it wasn’t all that often that the entire team was needed. Someone would be back sooner than later.

After about an hour and two coffee’s later, Clint decided that it was time to go. He knew he needed to, and spending his day at the coffee shop wasn’t going to change that. So, he hailed a cab to take him to the hospital and got himself all checked in.

The nurse brought him to his room for the next month and gave him a chance to get settled in. He had his own room, which was probably the only thing nice about the place. The room was bland and cold like any other hospital room he’d been in, but it seemed so much more depressing than the rest. He couldn’t quite figure out why, but it probably had something to do with the fact that he didn’t have a room that faced the city, and the chances of someone in the hospital giving him roof access were going to be slim to none. It was going to be a long fucking month.

His nurse, Susan, came back in his room about twenty minutes later. He had changed into the gown they gave him for the day and was somewhat mentally prepared for whatever hell he had just stepped into.

She gave him the rundown of the day, writing the plan on the whiteboard in his room for reference. First, they were going to put an IV in his hand, getting him started on fluids, nausea meds, Prednisone, and Benadryl. Then they would put him under and put an infusion port in his chest. Through that port, they would start him on chemo and continue with the chemo for the next week to try to kill every single cancer cell in his body.

“Any questions?” She asked him with a welcoming smile.

“I... I don’t think so. I’ll ask them as they come,” he told her, his voice steady. It all sounded like a lot, but Clint was going to treat it like a mission. It was going to be his month-long mission, and he was going to try and make it out alive like every other mission he’d been on. His cancer sentence wasn’t certain death, and that was a comforting thought. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”

“Fair,” She said, then motioned for him to sit down. She put an IV into his hand and helped him get comfortable for the time being.

About twenty minutes later Doctor Jensen came in and talked Clint through everything once more before they wheeled Clint to the operating room, prepped and ready for surgery.

The first day wasn’t so bad. He woke up from the small surgery and hoped that Bucky would be there. He wasn’t.

At one point, he looked up at his IV and watched his chemo drip down. It was a gross yellow color, almost like piss or apple juice. He wasn’t sure which one was worse to think about, so he tried not to. Whatever it was, it was dripping right into an important vein Clint couldn’t think of because his mind felt so clouded from all the medications that were running through his body. 

His doctors had told him that some of the medications that they had him on would do a few different things to him. For instance, one of the medications would possibly cause him to hallucinate. The other would have a whole list of side effects that sounded less than pleasant, like drug-induced diabetes.

The next day, was complete and utter hell. It was one of the few times he was thankful he was deaf because of all the alarms that would go off in his room. Pointless alarms too, like the one on his bed that went off anytime he shifted upwards or tried to get out of bed. 

There were so many people in and out of his room all the time; they gave him food he didn’t want to eat, took his blood multiple times a day, made sure that his IV pole was functioning properly and pushed drugs into it. Any time he felt like he was going to fall asleep, someone or something would happen that would ruin it. He just wanted Bucky there to make it better, keep him warm, and take his feeling of loneliness away.

On his third day, he started to get used to his new routine a bit more. He wasn’t pleased with it, but he managed best he could. The fact that he already had depression, and they’d taken him off his medication really wasn’t helping. He didn’t have anyone to talk to or make him feel better, and sitting on his ass all day, staring at the TV or the stark white hospital room walls wasn’t helping his mood. The Prednisone they had him on was a bit of a mood dampener too, especially since one of the side effects is mood disorders.

He met his “neighbor” Stanley, an older guy who came into Clint’s room a few different times, asking him if he wanted to play cards. He was too wrapped up in his self-pity to give a damn about the other guy. He felt awful, among a long list of other things. The third-time Stanley came around asking if he wanted to play, Clint agreed.

“What are you in for, kid?” He asked, pulling up the guest chair in Clint’s room up to his bed. He pulled up the table that had Clint’s half-eaten lunch on it and put the food tray aside so he could deal out a hand for the both of them.

“Leukemia. What about you?” the archer asked, taking off his purple beanie and setting it aside. He adjusted his hearing aids so he could hear him better, taking his hand of cards.

“I got ass cancer. So, as much as you want to complain your cancer is a pain in the ass, just remember; it’s not ass cancer.” Stanley said, looking through his hand of cards. “Got any 3’s?”

“Fair enough,” Clint said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Nope, go fish. Got any 8’s?”

“Where’s your family? Can’t imagine going through your cocktail of chemo without anyone here to help you through it,” he asked, shuffling his cards around, and handing Clint an 8.

“I don’t really have any family,” the blond replied, putting his 8’s down and looking through his cards. He would rather not let his identity slip right now. The press hearing about this before Bucky is a thought that Clint doesn’t even want to consider. “My friends and my boyfriend... they’re on a business trip, I guess. Got any 6’s?”

“Go fish. Do they know? My wife’s gotta cold, otherwise she’d be here. Hopefully, I’ll be breaking out of here within the next few days or so. Might be too soon to rub it in, but that’s a hell of a lot sooner than you’ll be getting out. Got any 5’s?”

“It’s complicated-” he started but was interrupted by a knock on his door. He handed over a five.

“Stanley, please try not to harass my patient's,” Doctor Jensen said as he came into check on Clint. “If he’s bugging you, you can ask him to leave. If he doesn’t leave, hit your nurse button and Claire will come in and get him.”

Clint snorted and shook his head, “no, he’s fine. Nice to have someone other than lab coats and scrubs in here.”

“Thank you!” Stanley said in an over exaggerated tone, “no one appreciates me around here!”

“It’s because you harass everyone!” Doctor Jensen laughed as he checked Clint’s port. “Alright, Clint, your blood counts are as we want them right now, which is great. We’ll have to do a spinal tap to see how you’re responding to chemo, but I’ll save that for later today. Still got hair on your head, so you’re beating Stanley on that front. Just make sure you’re getting enough rest. If you start feeling more nauseous or are in pain, let me or one of your nurses know, okay? Just four more days of chemo, then three more weeks in here after that.”

“Okay, thanks, doc,” the archer said, turning back to his cards.

“You were saying?” Stanley asked, attempting to continue their conversation.

“It’s complicated... I don’t know... I can’t do it over the phone. I left my boyfriend a note to call me when he gets home, but so far I’ve got nothing. They aren’t told how long they’re going to be gone, so he could be home today, he could be home two months from now.” Clint said, suddenly feeling much more nauseous as he spoke. If it was two months from now, he could be dead. The doctor just said they didn’t know how he was responding to chemo. He could be dead before Bucky gets home, and the thought of that makes him want to hurl.

Stanley seemed to know the ‘I’m going to puke’ look, because he quickly handed Clint a puke sack, and gave him a few seconds to recover before pushing the button for the nurse.

“Chemo sucks,” Clint said, wiping his mouth and nose with the back of his hand.

“Your chemo cocktail sucks, yeah. Not all of them are that bad,” Stanley quipped as though he was attempting to make him feel better. It didn’t. The nurse on duty made her way into the room, shaking her head as Stanley spoke. “The worst is when you start getting mouth sores. Hurts to eat, drink, and talk.”

“Sounds lovely,” Clint scrunched his nose and handed the bag over to the nurse, thanking her for cleaning him up. She weighed the contents and disposed of the bag in the trash. 

“We’re going to try our best to keep that from happening, Stanley. Please don’t get him freaked out for no reason.” The nurse, Claire, said in a disapproving tone.

“They’re all ready for me to leave. I think I drive them nuts.”

“You know you drive us nuts,” Claire laughed, shaking her head as she pushed a couple of meds directly into one of the lines hanging out of Clint’s port. “I’m not going to say it doesn’t add a little flavor to my day, but still.”

“Fair enough.” Stanley nodded in agreement.

“Why don’t you boys take a lap or two around the hospital, Clint doesn’t need to spend the whole day in bed, and I’m sure these four walls are getting boring,” Claire suggested and held a hand out to help Clint out of the bed.

“For the record, she’s referencing bedsores. You get bed sores if you sit on your arse for too long.” Stanley said, offering a cheerful smile

With that statement, Clint agreed. He hated any kind of sore, and bed sores sounded horrific. He had troubles making it to the bathroom and back, he wasn’t sure how he was going to make an entire lap around the hospital, but he pushed himself to his feet and held on tightly to his IV pole.

He and Stanley walked slowly through the cancer ward. Stanley obviously knew most of the nurses and the patients residing in the area and made an effort to say hello to everyone. He introduced Clint, too, but the archer was much too tired to even think about remembering their faces or names.

“So, tell me about this guy of yours,” Stanley said a few minutes into walking.

“Bucky?” Clint asked, looking over at him, and then back at his feet so he didn’t accidentally trip. “He’s... he’s great. We met a few years back. He’s really, really beautiful, like movie star status, and I am not sure how I got so lucky, but I did. I’m sure if he found out I’m going through this without him, he would probably kill me.” Clint laughed awkwardly, shaking his head. There were plenty of things that could kill him in this instant, and Bucky probably wouldn’t be one of them. Stanley probably didn’t know who Clint was, so maybe he didn’t know who Bucky was either.

“Yeah? So why isn’t he here?” Stanley asked in a soft tone.

“Like I said earlier, work. Army related. Off doing stuff, and has been for the past week or so. Went in for a bad cold, was told I had the flu, then was told to check myself into the emergency room the following day because there was something wrong with my blood tests. A few tests later and I find myself here, with this apple juice-piss water shit dripping into my veins,” Clint said, with a laugh but never the less sounded a little frustrated. “I want him to be here and everything and I want my friends to know, but I don’t want them to get distracted and killed or something, you know? They don’t get to come home until they’re told, anyway. No point in freaking anyone out.”

Stanley nodded, looking as though he somewhat understood the situation and didn’t want to pry anymore. “Tell me about yourself, then. Like everything up to the cancer stuff.”

“You got me thinking you’re some kind of therapist or something,” Clint said with a chuckle. As they walked through the bland hallways, he got to thinking about how much he hated hospitals again. He especially hated how cold they were, and he ended up sticking one of his hands in his pocket, the other pulling the IV pole beside him.

“Was for a bit, back in my twenties. Wasn’t keeping any clients and decided a career change would be good. Don’t think I could do it now, seeing as though I seem to get on everyone's nerves here,” the older man said and smiled.

“I, um, I grew up on a farm in Ohio, but my parents died in a car accident when I was six. My brother and I wound up in the foster care system. I’m deaf so no one wanted me or the medical expenses that potentially came with having a deaf kid, so my brother and I decided to go off on our own and ended up in the circus. The one that got shut down about 10 years ago because it also happened to be a major drug cartel,” Clint said with a snort and shook his head. “I was out before then, but it probably wasn’t the best environment for a kid to grow up in. Now I’m here, I ended up with a hot, overprotective boyfriend who can handle my baggage, and we’ve been together for a couple years now. Officially, probably a year or so.”

“Wow, dead parents, deaf, circus clown, and now; cancer freak. You really got the short end of the stick, didn’t ya kid?” Stanley asked, obviously kidding.

“Yeah, that pretty much sums up my life,” Clint nodded, having to stop and hold onto the railing in the hallway. His body was exhausted, and he it honestly felt like he could feel the chemo seeping into every crevice of his body. “I can see why you made a horrible therapist though, probably good that you decided on a career change.”

“You know what? My wife said the same thing.” Stanley laughed, watching Clint carefully as they continued another twenty feet or so.

“I’m sorry, I’d like to do another lap, but I don’t think I can.” he groaned, sitting down in one of the chairs by the elevator. They were probably a hundred yards from his room, but he didn’t think he was going to make it without a break. 

“That’s alright kid, just take your time,” Stanley said, taking a seat next to Clint.

Clint ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. He was an Avenger. He took on aliens and fought ridiculous creatures from god knows where, yet he couldn’t take on chemo. He felt defeated and useless, as though if the general public found out he would be a letdown. He was supposed to be a fighter, and his own body couldn’t fight its own cells.

When he removed his fingers from his hair, his hair came with. Clint looked down at his hands, and then at Stanley. He felt like he was going to hurl again, seeing his hair in his hands. He’d expected the hair to start falling out soon, obviously, but it was still a shock to him. Clint quickly put his head between his legs, trying to get the nausea to subside. It tugged at his port, which was a little uncomfortable, but his mind was swirling around with all the what-ifs.

“It’s okay. It happens.” He said, giving Clint a pat on the back as though he’s trying to be comforting. “It happens.”

After a few more minutes of sitting with his head between his legs, the nausea went away and they headed back to Clint’s room. Stanley stood by as Clint got into bed. He seemed to know what Clint needed and gave him some space.

“If you need me, I’ll be in my room, kid.”

The space Stanley gives is less than welcome, however. It leaves Clint alone with his thoughts.

Clint thought about Bucky and the team, what they might have been doing right at that moment. It was probably a lot more fun than staring at a wall while lying in a hospital bed. 

He thought about the last mission that they went on, not even a month ago. It had led them on a two-month long goose chase after a few different people. Clint loved those kinds of missions because it kept them on their toes almost all the time.

Clint thought about the night home after the mission, where he and Bucky had sex, which made him think about their relationship as a whole.

They’d met a few years ago, shortly after Cap had found Bucky. Since Clint kept to himself, for the most part, Bucky was drawn to the not-so-awkward silences that came when he was hanging out with Clint. Clint didn’t live in the Tower or on the new training facility like most of the other Avengers did. He had a shitty apartment in Bed-Stuy but often visited the training facility to help train new recruits.

He liked to make different marksmen courses. He figured the more challenging the better, and the recruits would benefit from it. He benefited from it too, because it gave him something to do between missions and made him feel useful, especially since most of the missions they had been going on at the time were few and far between. Most world leaders were not happy with the Avengers, but the Avengers would step in where they were needed.

There was a day when he was testing out one of the courses that he made, and Bucky came up behind him asking him if he wanted some company. Clint had just shrugged, letting Bucky join in on his fun.

From that, their friendship started blooming; they spent hours upon hours together, but Clint was very adamant about keeping it as just a friendship. He could tell that Bucky was hitting on him from time to time, and while he had picked up on the advances, Clint had acted like he didn’t understand what Bucky was doing.

When Bucky asked him out for the first time, Clint said no. He made up a lame excuse, and he was fairly certain that Bucky had picked up on it because he backed off for a while.

Clint had wanted to explain to him that he was horrible at relationships, and honestly the thought of being with Bucky terrified him. It wasn’t because of the metal arm, or his past, but because Clint had terrible commitment issues and he feared he was going to fuck it up. He knew he probably would more than once.

Bucky hadn’t given up on him like Clint thought he might when he turned him down the first time. He was there for him when he was injured, had his six on missions, and came to check up on him whenever Clint’s mood took a turn.

Clint fell hard for him soon after that. Their innocent friendly pizza dates turned into pizza dates with cuddling and kissing on the couch after. Bucky kept to the boundaries Clint had set and Clint loved him for it, but he wouldn’t admit to loving him for another few months.

xxx

“Clint, come on, I’m going to take you down to group therapy,” Stanley said the next morning.

The archer rolled from his back to his side, away from the doorway where Stanley was standing. Day four, he thought. He let out a groan and shook his head. It was still too early according to his standards, even though the nurses had already been in and out of his room twice with food and medication. “Can’t, sorry.”

“What do you mean you can’t? You got something better to do?” Stanley asked, picking up Clint’s beanie and tossing it at him.

“Yeah, sleep.” He said, reaching back to turn his hearing aids off. Of course, that didn’t work because the guy just walked around the bed and got in his face.

He said something along the lines of “you can spleen when you’re deaf.” It took Clint’s brain a lot longer than it should have to translate the lip reading to “you can sleep when you’re dead.”

“Too soon,” Clint rolled his eyes. He shook his head, reached for a vomit bag and unloaded everything he ate for breakfast that morning. He sealed the bag, hit his nurse button and turned his hearing aids back on.

“If you’re going to use the ‘too sick’ excuse, I’m afraid everyone is too sick, and that’s why they’re at cancer support group,” Stanley said, handing the bag of vomit to the nurse. “Susan, please tell Clint he needs to go to support group.”

Susan gave them both an annoyed look and let out a heavy sigh as she left the room to dispose of the bag. She came back less than a minute later with a couple syringes in her hand, pushing them into Clint’s IV. “Honestly, I think you should try to go. Just so you know what it’s like. I just put in some more nausea meds, so you should be okay for a little while. If you want, I can get you a wheelchair and Stanley can push you.”

“Fine,” Clint agreed, begrudgingly. He shoved himself up, and onto his feet. The nurse brought a wheelchair in for him, he sat down with a groan.

“Oh, quit your whining. It’s not that bad. It’s better therapy than talking to me.” Stanley said with a hint of a smirk on his face.

“That’s really not saying much.” Clint frowned, putting running his fingers through his hair. It was becoming patchy and generally weird, even for someone who had horribly unruly hair. When his fingers came out of his hair, a cluster of hair came with. Hair was all over his bedsheets and he was already getting tired of it. “Can we...” Clint paused, looking between Stanley and the nurse.

“Shave it? Sure, honey. Why don’t you stand up and go to the bathroom? I’ll be right back,” Susan said with an encouraging smile. She came back, and they shaved his head. Clint’s hair had always been somewhat short, but he’d never actually fully shaved it. It was a little bit shocking to him to watch his blond hair disappear, but he figured he could cope. He’d have to.

When they finished shaving his head, Clint put his favorite purple beanie back on, and it was like nothing had changed. The beanie was like a safety blanket for him and kept him warm for the most part. He enjoyed it. He went to sit in the wheelchair once more, letting Stanley push him down to the support group.

It was kind of like the support group Sam led. Everyone talked about their problems and struggles of being a cancer patient or survivor. Clint kept quiet for most of the meeting, feeling it was unnecessary to interject because he didn’t quite understand what it meant to be a cancer patient. Not yet, at least. He hadn’t told anyone outside of the hospital, thus he didn’t have to deal with many of the things that the people in the support group were talking about.

When the meeting was finished, Stanley took him back to his room and stayed with him for a while, before a nurse eventually kicked him out.

The following days were one in the same. His team of doctors decided it was probably best to get him in therapy sessions to talk things out. He’d received multiple blood transfusions and was scheduled to receive his stem cell transplant in the next couple of days.

While the therapy session was good, Clint wasn’t entirely convinced that he found them helpful. He never liked talking about his feelings, and he certainly wasn’t liking the fact that he had to talk about his feelings concerning cancer. He just wanted to shrug it off like it was nothing; if he stuck to treatment, it was going to go away.

xxx

Clint wasn’t expecting any visitors. He’d finished the intensive bouts of chemo the day before, and even though they’d moved on to a much lower dose, he could still feel it raging through his system. Stanley had been checked out of the hospital early that morning, with promises to come back and check on Clint. Clint kindly accepted his gesture but didn’t expect the guy to be making too many visits.

He’d gotten a couple of texts from Natasha earlier that morning, but staring at his phone for too long made him feel sick. He was also in a piss poor mood, so he hadn’t responded. She was back in town, sure, but that didn’t mean that Bucky was, and the thought just pissed him off even more.

He got the feeling that if anyone looked at him the wrong way, he’d probably kick a puppy and not feel bad (he wasn’t going to feel the same about that thought when he got off the medication, puppy kickers were people he loathed and would easily put an arrow in them without a second thought).

He went about his day as usual. He watched a little TV, slept, ate crappy hospital food, had his blood drawn, was given medication, and the day went on and on. He was sick and tired of his new routine. He was sick and tired of being trapped in the hospital. He was sick and tired of being sick and tired and all he wanted was his boyfriend, his dog, and a nice big fat pizza that wasn’t made in the hospital kitchen in accordance with his new neutropenic diet (the pizza tasted like fucking cardboard).

The fact that Natasha texted him made him anxious, but not anxious enough for him to actually give two shits about responding to her. He was more anxious as to whether or not Bucky was Home too, and he just hadn't heard from him yet.

He checked his phone from time to time, hoping he would get a text from Bucky. He didn’t, and the messages that Natasha sent still hadn’t been responded to. He got a few more from her, started a response, and didn’t send it. He was sick, he was tired, and he didn’t want to have to come to terms with his condition enough to tell his best friend that he had cancer.

For him, being sick was a sign of being weak. He already felt he the weakest of the Avengers, and he wasn’t completely sure why they kept him around, but they did. Maybe it was because they pitied him. If they hadn’t before they probably would with his cancer diagnosis.

He didn’t have to respond to the messages for Natasha to know that something was up. She’d gone to his apartment to check on him, found his letter to Bucky put her skill set to work to find him. Which she did.

Clint had been asleep when she arrived, so she sat in the chair by his bed and waited patiently. Clint had his purple beanie, wearing Bucky’s red Henley and was huddled under multiple layers of blankets. The V-neck of the Henley showed the catheter that accessed the port in his chest, and wires everywhere that led to different machines in the room that monitored his vitals.

“Shit,” Natasha muttered quietly to herself. He looked skinnier, she thought, and most the color was drained out of his face. She’d suspected something was up before they left for the mission, but she never thought it would be anything like this.

When Clint woke up, he stirred a little like he always did, licking chapped, split lips before opening his eyes. His movements stilled when he saw her. It took him a few seconds to figure out if she was real or if his mind was playing tricks on him— it had been doing that the past couple of days— but it was her in the flesh, eyes cautiously grooming over him and taking it all in. He should have expected her showing up, really, he knew better than to not respond to her text messages.

“You been watching me while I sleep?” He grunted quietly and shifted with a groan. Despite the amount of morphine they’d pumped into his system a couple of hours before, he was in a good amount of pain. He tried his best not to let her see it, but hiding things from Natasha was never easy.

Natasha handed him his hearing aids before saying anything and relaxed back into the hospital chair with her arms crossed in front of her chest. “You didn’t respond to my texts. I was worried you went off and did something stupid while we were gone.”

“Mmm, the only stupid thing I did was go to the fucking doctor,” he said, pushing himself up to a sit. His body didn’t like how sudden all his movements were, and his eyes went searching for a barf bag in the room. The bag was where it always was in his room; right next to his bed, so he quickly grabbed it and unloaded his stomach into it. It had become routine for him; waking up, puking, hitting the nurse button and hoping that the chemo would eventually find its way out of his system.

“Clint...” she replied, her eyes softening like she was suddenly realizing how real everything was. Clint was easily one of the few people able to recognize the look. “Going to the doctor wasn’t stupid. Going through this by yourself, that’s stupid.”

“What was I supposed to do? You guys were sent on a mission. I could have called, but who knows when you guys would have gotten the message. Bucky finds out and he’s going to worry so much it’ll get him killed. Honestly, I don’t think I can handle him getting killed. I can handle going through all this by myself. Made a few friends. Not totally alone.” He said, glancing over at the door when the nurse came in the room. “Natasha, this is Susan. Susan, this is Natasha. See, I’ve made some friends.”

“I wouldn’t say your nurse on duty is necessarily the best support system. No offense, Susan.” Natasha said looking from Clint to the nurse.

“None taken, sweetheart,” Susan smiled, checking Clint’s vitals and making sure everything was just as it should be.

“She’s not the only friend I’ve made. I make due. Haven’t been harassing the nurses unless I need something,” he rubbed his forehead and kept his beanie pulled down far enough so she couldn’t see how bald he was. Everything was gone. First, it was his hair, now his eyebrows and lashes too. He felt like he looked like an idiot.

“Clint, you should have told someone,” Natasha tried her best not to scold.

“I didn’t want to risk anyone getting killed. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Doc says I’ve been responding to everything really well so far. Only thing I’m really missing right is a nice New York pizza.” And Bucky, he thought.

“You’re still not getting that pizza, Clint. The hospital pizza tastes just fine, and it’s safe for you to eat right now.” She told him as she changed the dressing on his port. “You need to give your immune system a chance to start going up. If your numbers are looking good, maybe I’ll consider asking Doctor Jensen about ordering a pizza for you.” Susan said as she fiddled with his IV, taking a blood sample and pushing a few drugs in for him.

Natasha carefully watched everything the nurse was doing. She didn’t like any of it, but she wasn’t going to object because for once Clint was getting the help he needed instead of ignoring it like every other aspect of his life.

She waited until the nurse left the room to continue talking to him. She wasn’t sure what the doctors or nursing staff knew about Clint or what he did. Knowing him, he probably was tight-lipped about it all. He never liked bringing attention to himself or what he did. If he’d brought too much attention it might have caught the media’s attention

“Bucky isn’t going to be happy when he finds out you didn’t tell him, Clint.”

“What’s he going to do, dump his dying boyfriend? Sounds like something he would do.” Clint said in a joking tone, but Natasha caught on to the cynicism in his voice and frowned.

“No, you idiot,” she rolled her eyes, “you’re not going to die. Not if the team has anything to say about it. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“You’re not going to tell them. Tony, Bruce, everyone has more important things that they need to be worried about. This,” he gestured around the hospital room, “this will hold it off long enough. I will not have anyone getting killed because of me. They said the chemo’s basically killed all the cancer cells anyway, Tash. It’s doing its job.”

Natasha opened her mouth to speak again but promptly shut it. “If that’s what you want.” She said after a few moments of silence.

“Let me be the one to tell them, alright?” He said carefully, trying his best not to be snappy with her.

“Alright. But you don’t get to bullshit me. You’re going to tell me everything.”

With a bit of hesitation, Clint told her. He told her about the diagnosis and testing, about all the fancy drugs they were giving him, and his new friend Stanley. He left out the part of his mind getting the best of him every once and awhile, but knowing her she probably read between the lines well enough to know that he was off his regular meds and not doing so great with the new ones they had put him on.

Natasha patiently put up with him. She put up his vomit for the next couple of days while the chemo worked his way out of his system. She put up with the prednisone withdrawals when they decreased his dose, and when his mood swings were somehow worse than they had been before. She held his hand through a spinal tap and for the next couple of hours while chemo dripped straight into his spine. 

She played cards with him, did what she could to make him laugh, and tried her hardest to keep him comfortable. With her there, he was comfortable. The days didn’t seem to drag on for so long.

Natasha couldn’t stay forever though, she had a job to do. He got a whole week with her before she had to go back. After those seven days, Clint didn’t know what to do. After he got a taste of home after being gone for what seemed like forever, he wanted nothing more than to have someone right there with him. He was halfway through treatment, though, which was a tiny light at the end of the tunnel.

He figured out quickly that there was a much bigger difference between being alone and feeling alone and he felt like there was nothing he could do about it. Natasha being with him was like a bit of weight was lifted off his shoulders. He didn’t have to endure everything by himself and he had someone other than the hospital staff encouraging him through everything. He’d felt alone before, but since Bucky came along it wasn’t a feeling he’d had in a long time. 

He wallowed in it too, he curled up in his bed and cried for the first time since being diagnosed. He’d hit the metaphorical wall he told himself he wasn’t going to hit when he went into treatment. It didn’t take the nurse on duty too long to figure it out. He was much snappier than he usually was, and hadn’t even gotten out of bed the next day to go to the support group he’d been attending.

Down in the dumps was a nice way of putting it. Clint was miserable.

He’d considered calling Bucky, but talked himself out of it and clutched on to the idea that Bucky was better off not knowing.

And that’s how it would stay until the end of treatment.

xxx

The next two weeks dragged on. Doctor Jensen had warned him that if his numbers didn’t come up to where they needed to be, then Clint would be staying in the hospital until they did. He needed to be considered in full remission to leave the hospital, and unless his white blood cell count was relatively normal, Clint wasn’t going to be getting a (good) pizza anytime soon.

Thankfully, his blood counts steadily rose in his last week. He was held in the hospital for three days longer than he was supposed to, but he figured it could have been worse. He was going to be checked out, and that was enough for him.

While he waited for the nurse to bring in his discharge papers and all his new medication he’d have to bring home with him, Clint thought about the first things he was going to do on his way home from the hospital. First and foremost, he was going to pick up his dog. He’d already texted Kate saying he would be by to get him when she was out of school, and gotten a response that any time after one was fine.  
After he picked up Lucky, he planned on picking up New York’s finest pizza and taking it home in hopes that maybe, just maybe, Bucky would be home waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint comes home from the hospital, and a special someone comes home a few days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me here, I'm trying my best to make this as realistic as possible. If anything looks off/ doesn't seem right, please let me know!

Discharge went as swiftly as Clint could hope. He had a long list of to-do’s and not-to-do’s, as well as a hefty number of medications. Some of the medications the doctor gave him, and the others he would have to go to the pharmacy to pick up.

Doctor Jensen discussed consolidation therapy and their initial plan for the next two years if everything went according to plan. They weren’t sure it would, but they were hopeful and there were other options to discuss should his condition take a turn for the worst.

Consolidation therapy would include outpatient chemo once a month, where he would come into the hospital and oral chemo that he would be taking at home. One oral chemo would be taken once a week, and the other would be taken every day. It would also include bi-weekly blood tests in the beginning and a lumbar puncture with intrathecal therapy (chemotherapy delivered to the central nervous system during a lumbar puncture) every three months or so. Just because he was being checked out of the hospital and he was technically in remission, didn’t mean that he was out of the woods just yet.

On top of the oral chemotherapy he was going to be taking, he had nausea, pain medications and a list of vitamins he was supposed to take to keep his immune system up. When he finished his rounds of outpatient chemo, he would receive a steroid to take for a week to suppress his immune system so the chemo could properly do its job.

Once his next series of appointments were scheduled, a therapy session included, Clint was free to go. He couldn’t pick Lucky up until after two, so he decided to swing by the pharmacy and then to his favorite coffee shop and treat himself to a quality cup of Joe.

New York hadn’t changed much while he was in the hospital. The weather was a lot colder than he remembered it, but then again it was now November and he shouldn’t have expected the weather to stay nice. He walked from the coffee shop to Kate’s house and rolled his eyes at Christmas decorations that were already being put up, despite Thanksgiving being two weeks away.

When he arrived at Kate’s house, Lucky was over-joyed to see Clint and nearly knocked him over in the process of saying hello. Clint made a bit small talk with the high schooler and thanked her profusely for looking after his pup. He sent her some money via PayPal and let her know he’d be in touch. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, he just wanted to get home.

He took a cab from Kate’s place to his apartment, since it was a far distance from Kate’s house back to Bed-Stuy. He wasn’t about to catch another cold and end up in the hospital again. No way.

When they got back to his apartment, Clint made his way up the six flights of stairs and cursed at the fact the elevator in his apartment still hadn’t been repaired. He was about ready to have Stark do it, and have him send the landlords the bill. Nevertheless, he made his way up to his apartment and set his bag down in the entryway.

He took off his jacket and set his keys in the dish by the door. Everything was just as he’d left a month prior. Lucky quickly made his way to the couch, watching and waiting as Clint took off a couple of layers and went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

“What do you say, boy? Should we order some pizza and watch some DogCops for old times’ sake?” Clint asked, and Lucky barked in response. “Alright, pepperoni or cheese? Or are you feeling meat-lovers today?”

Lucky just stared at him and wagged his tail. Clint chuckled and shook his head, taking out his phone to order a pizza. “Cheese it is,” he told his pup, “You just make yourself comfortable over there, I’m gonna put my stuff away alright?”

Lucky, of course, wasn’t about to stay on the couch when Clint made his way into his room. The dog immediately jumped on the bed and kissed Clint’s face as he started going through his things.

“I know, buddy, I missed you too,” Clint said and scratched behind his ear. He held a conversation with his dog while he put his clothes away. After dealing with his clothes, he sorted through his medications. He’d bought himself a pill organizer at the pharmacy, and carefully followed the directions on the labels as to how frequently he needed to take certain medications.

When he finished sorting everything out, he carefully hid everything where he knew Bucky wouldn’t go looking for them and stowed the pain and nausea medicine in his drawer in the bathroom underneath a few towels so he could access them easily when he got sick.

The pizza arrived not long after he finished putting everything away and had downed a pot of coffee. He thanked the delivery guy, tipped him, and curled up on the couch with Lucky, half expecting Bucky to walk through the doors any minute.

Home didn’t feel like home unless Bucky was there with him.

Clint laid low for the next couple of days. He took Lucky on walks, and enjoyed his freedom, but never strayed too far from his apartment in fear that he might catch whatever virus was going around.

Since Lucky was technically a service dog, Clint brought him to the hospital for the next group therapy session. He was happy to be in the hospital for once, telling the group about his first couple of days home and how he finally got the slice of pizza he’d been begging for.

The following day he went back to the hospital for his personal therapy session, thankfully they’d moved on from talking about treatment and were on to talk about other things. For instance, things that made Clint happy and now that he was out of the hospital he could enjoy some of those things again. That being said, Clint droned on about archery for most of the session, then told his therapist about how Lucky was, how the pizza was even better than he remembered it. He complained about Christmas decorations being put up too soon.

“Clint,” his therapist, Doctor Moore, eventually interjected. “While I am happy that you’re checked out of the hospital and are enjoying life in remission, I think we need to discuss other things.”

“Okay...” Clint furrowed his brow, “Like what? You wanted me to talk about things that make me happy.”

“Right,” she nodded, “but what I was hoping you’d talk about is more than just the material things in life. I know you like pizza, we’ve talked about that and your coffee problem. Lucky, Lucky is a great example of something that makes you happy. I remember you telling me a couple of weeks ago that having your friend Natasha in town made you happy. Now that you’re out of the hospital, what makes you happy? What makes you sad?”

“Those are the things that make me happy. I mean, Bucky makes me happy, but Bucky isn’t home right now. I haven’t talked to Bucky in over a month, which is frustrating, but I’m coping with that,” the archer responded, not particularly fond of the push to talk about Bucky. He thought they were done talking about Bucky. Apparently, they weren’t.

“What about Bucky being gone frustrates you? Is it that he isn’t here to help you through the struggles of your diagnosis? You told me you love him, right? And he’s off... on a business trip. If Bucky were here with us right now, what would you tell him?” She pried, trying her best to get actual answers out of Clint this session. Clint wasn’t a huge fan of talking about his feelings, and in their previous sessions, she had caught onto the fact that he wouldn’t go into depth unless he had been prompted to do so.

“I would welcome him home,” he responded, looking down as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“What else? Would you tell him you’re sick?”

“If he were here with us, I’d tell him I’m getting the help I need, and that I went to the doctor like he asked.”

“Okay, but would you tell him that you have cancer? You told me you were worried Natasha would tell him, do you think she has?” The doctor probed lightly.

“I...” Clint looked away, nervously biting his lip. “I don’t think she’s told him. If she told him then he would actually be here with us right now. He wouldn’t be hypothetical in this situation.”

“Yes, but right now, I want you to picture him sitting here next to you. Are you going to tell him? Can you tell me you have cancer?”

“You already know I have cancer,” Clint said, and his therapist let out a semi-frustrated sigh.

“Clint, you’re in love with Bucky. You’ve told me that many of times. Why would you want to keep something as important as cancer away from a loved one?”

There was a long, silence as Clint tried to find the words to explain it to her. He chewed on his lip until it started bleeding, and he avoided any and all eye contact with Doctor Moore.

“I’m not judging you, Clint, I just want to know your thought process on this,” she gently coaxed.

Clint looked back down at his hands, his leg jumping up and down nervously for a few more seconds before answering. “I... In group therapy, everyone talks about their loved ones, and how hard it is for their loved ones to cope with the fact that their significant other is sick...” he paused, swallowing thickly. “Bucky... Bucky’s a great guy. He takes care of me fine, and makes sure that I take my medicine and that I take care of myself when I’m feeling down... but... He had to take care of one of his friends when they were younger, Steve. He’s complained about it, that his health issues were a lot and he hated seeing him sick... I... I don’t want to put that kind of burden on him again. I don’t want him to feel like he needs to take care of me. I don’t want him to waste his time on me. I can handle this just fine on my own.”

She jotted a couple of things down in her notes as Clint spoke, and when he was done she nodded, carefully taking in the information. “So you see having cancer as a burden, and you don’t want to burden Bucky with cancer?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“So tell me about this friend of Bucky. He’s still around today, isn’t he? Does Bucky still see him as a burden?”

“They’re still good friends.”

“Okay,” she nodded encouragingly. “So, maybe he doesn’t see it the same way you do. Maybe he doesn’t see his friendship or his past with Steve as a burden. Perhaps he sees it as part of his childhood, something he wants to share with you about his life.”

“Perhaps,” Clint responded with a shrug.

“They’re still good friends, you said, it hasn’t ruined their friendship that Bucky had to take care of Steve. I don’t think that Bucky would see taking care of you as a burden, Clint. In my professional opinion, I think it would hurt your relationship more to keep this from him,” she paused, giving Clint a chance to counter. When he didn’t say anything, she continued.

“Steve and Bucky are under no circumstances you and Bucky. It’s unfair to compare a friendship or a partnership that way. I think you’re scared. I think you’re scared that you have cancer. It’s not something you control like other aspects of your life. You can control your bow and arrow, you can control what you say, who you love, and so on. You can’t control the outcome of cancer, and you can’t control what Bucky is going to say or do when you tell him.”

Clint swallowed thickly, biting back tears because she was right. It’s what he was feeling, but was unable to find the words to explain. Telling Bucky would make everything real and he wasn’t ready for that.

“It’s okay to have these feelings, Clint. I know you haven’t had the easiest upbringings. You’ve been abused, and you’ve been taken advantage of, both situations you had no control over. Then you got help, you got back on your feet and feel like you have control over your life and what happens. Now, you’ve been diagnosed with cancer and you’re losing control again. It’s okay, Clint. When a car starts slipping on ice, what are you supposed to do?” She asked, licking her lips, “you keep your hands on the steering wheel, take your foot off the gas and you turn in the direction that the car is spinning to gain traction so you don’t spiral out of control.” 

“Okay...” Clint said quietly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Don’t hit the gas and hope that the tires are going to even out on their own because most of the time they don’t. Okay? Just keep that in mind, Clint. As for now, we need to wrap up. So, go home, get some rest and call me if you need anything.” 

xxx

Clint came home after his session that afternoon and wasn’t feeling so hot. It was a lot, emotionally. She’d gone easy on him the first few sessions they had together, and whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. The cab ride home didn’t make it any better; cab drivers in New York are awful. He tried to will the nausea away by laying on the couch for a while, but finally, he gave in and decided to take some of his nausea medication and take a nap.

Both helped, but he felt rather disoriented when he woke up. He’d slept for much longer than he was planning to, and probably wouldn’t be sleeping that night because of it. In Clint’s mind, the only logical solution was to pry himself out of bed, throw on a few layers and take Lucky out for a walk. He figured the trip down the stairs, around the block a few times, and back up the stairs would be exhausting enough.

He came back from the walk and ordered pizza for the third time that week. He wasn’t anywhere near tired, but he figured that loading up on carbs would help with that. He huddled under a few layers of blankets to warm up and watched DogCops while he waited for his pizza.

His hair had started to grow back, but it was nowhere as long as it was when Bucky left. His hat was fixed on his head like always, but today he was wearing the one that Stanley’s wife had knit him while he was in the hospital. It was warmer than his other, a purple wool beanie that slouched despite being pulled over his ears. He didn’t have to adjust it as often as the other and he loved it.

He still wasn’t feeling great, but he didn’t exactly feel sick, so he was doing alright. He figured he needed to get some food in his stomach before taking his medication anyways.

The pizza came, and while he was up he brought his pills for the night, taking a couple bites of pizza before consuming them with a glass of water. He nearly spilled what was left of the glass of water on himself when Lucky jumped off the couch and bolted to the door. He spun in circles like he always did when someone he knew was coming, and let out one steady bark.

Not long after, keys were jingling outside his door. For some reason, Clint immediately assumed that it was Natasha coming over, and not Bucky coming home. But there Bucky was, walking in the door.

Lucky spun more circles in excitement, then stood up on his hind legs and attempted to slobber up Bucky’s face. “Down, boy,” Bucky grinned, patting the dog on the head.

“You’re just in time, pizza just got here,” Clint quickly got up and off the couch to welcome Bucky home. Barton wrapped his arms around his middle and gave him a peck on the lips. It was a deliberate move; if his arms were there, then Bucky would put his hands on Clint’s shoulders or neck, unable to feel how skinny he’d gotten in the time he was gone.

“I missed you,” Bucky said, giving Clint a squeeze, not letting him go after a peck on the lips. The blonde was a bit rigid in the squeeze and kiss, not sure what he was supposed to say or do. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he didn’t say anything or lead to it.

“I missed you too, you have no idea. Can’t believe it took that long to finish the mission.” Clint told him, biting the corner of his lip. He’d been yearning and dreading this day since he found out he had cancer, and he honestly didn’t know what to say. If he opened his mouth too much it would probably spill out. “Come on, I’m starvin', and the pizzas hot.” He said uncomfortably trying to shift out of his grip.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” The soldier said to him, letting Clint out of his grasp as he took his jacket off and put his keys in the bowl by the door.

“Yeah, yeah, feeling lots better,” he lied.

It wasn’t a full lie. He was feeling a lot better than he was when Bucky was there last, not to mention a hell of a lot better than he was feeling being cooped up in the hospital, and every other treatment-related event that happened while Bucky was gone.

He considered everything Doctor Moore had told him earlier that day. While every point was valid and made sense to him, he didn’t feel like he had the courage to tell him. Not yet, at least. He knew he was going to find out sooner than later, but he preferred later. Clint wanted Bucky’s homecoming to be a happy one, and not full of an emotionally draining conversation he wasn’t prepared for.

The blond shifted back to his spot on the couch, pulling the blanket back into his lap before grabbing his slice of pizza off the table. He wasn’t going to tell him. He couldn’t tell him. Natasha knew, and that was good enough for him.

“How was the mission?” He asked when Bucky took a seat next to him. Clint immediately leaned into him after Bucky grabbed his slice of pizza.

“It was alright, long. We got done everything we needed to and everything was executed properly, so we should have a bit of a break, which is nice,” Bucky took a bite of his pizza and wrapped his arm around Clint. “I should have plenty of time off. Steve is going to try and rotate people in and out, now. Doesn’t think it’s good or necessary to have so many people on at once, especially when we’re basically just doing clean-up jobs and going through skeleton crews with few people left in Hydra.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s good,” Clint said, and let out a contented sigh.

Bucky brought his hand up to take Clint’s beanie off, and Clint stiffened again but didn’t object. “It’s hot in here, why do you have so many layers on?” Bucky asked as he took the hat off. He filed his fingers through Clint’s typically unruly hair and frowned when he carded through basically nothing. “Did you get a haircut? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen your hair this short before.”

Clint took a second trying to decide which of the two questions he wants to answer first. He decides the hair, it’s probably easiest to explain with a lie that Bucky won’t catch onto.

“Yeah, my barber didn’t really know what he was doin’ the other day. I asked for him to trim it and make it a little shorter, then I ended up with this. It’s not horrible, but I definitely prefer it longer.” He hummed, leaning up to kiss Bucky’s cheek, then moved to his lips, “I missed you so damn much.”

Bucky smiled against his lips and shook his head fondly, “I missed you too, baby.”

They sat like that for a while, Clint’s nerves calming down eventually. They finished the pizza and eventually decided it would be best to move things into the bedroom.

Clint crawled back in bed and watched as Bucky unpacked his things. He watched as he put his clothes in the washing machine and looked in the laundry basket for a few of Clint’s things he could throw in the wash.

Clint quietly watched as Bucky got settled back home, scared that if he talked too much he might say the wrong thing or outright tell Bucky what was going on. Bucky would ask him questions while he put things into different drawers, and Clint would give short answers back.

Eventually, Bucky caught on. He walked over to the bed and laid on top of Clint, looking his boyfriend in the eyes. It was what they did when they wanted to catch the other’s attention; when they were spacing out or didn’t look quite right. It always grounded Clint. The weight and pressure of Bucky’s body made him feel safe and secure. “Is everything okay?” he asked, giving the archer a small kiss on the lips. “You’ve been taking your meds and everything, right? You seem really distant.”

Clint swallowed thickly and furrowed his brow. “W...what?” he asked, his heart racing as he grazed over the possibility that Natasha already told him. He tried his best to hide it, but he was dealing with one of the world’s best assassins, and Bucky sure as hell caught on to it.

His nostrils flared slightly, and he looked at Clint worriedly, “I know you don’t like to talk about what’s going on inside your head, Clint, but you promised me you were gonna take your meds. Even if you felt like you didn’t need them, you were still going to take them. That’s the deal we made when you refused to go talk to someone. Remember?”

The blond let out a long relieved sigh and shook his head. “No, no, I’ve been taking my meds,” he smiled slightly and pecked Bucky on the lips. They weren’t the same meds, but he was still taking them. “I just... I thought you meant the cold medicine and stuff. Just a little confused.”

The brunet nodded, though he seemed unconvinced, “if you say so.”

“I do say so,” he said with a reassuring nod. “I’m actually going to talk to someone now, I’ll have you know.”

“You? Talking to someone?” Bucky raised his eyebrows disbelief.

“Yeah, you jerk,” Clint chuckled softly, “a lot has changed since you left. And it’s not just the fact that the apartment is surprisingly clean.”

“I’m just surprised is all, but I’m proud of you,” his metal hand cupped Clint’s chin and kissed him slowly before pulling back and pushing himself off the bed.

The archer let out a small, disappointed grunt as Bucky crossed the room to finish putting his last few things away. “Tease,” he muttered quietly.

“I’ll be back in no-time. Just got to finish unpacking first.”

“I’m pretty sure the last time you said that you were gone for a month and a half, Buck.”

Bucky laughed from the bathroom, “yeah, well, I’m going to take a shower if your punk ass wants to join.”

The archer considered it for a moment. He’d lost a lot of weight which he wasn’t exactly sure how to break to Bucky, but he figured his boyfriend was going to see him naked sooner than later. He pushed himself out of bed and took his sweatshirt and sweater off before coming into the bathroom. Bucky was already naked and certainly a sight for sore eyes.

Clint smiled at him and licked his lips, taking off his pants and underwear in one steady swoop before taking off his shirt.

The brunet paused for a second, his warm fingers tracing over the small scar near Clint’s collarbone from where they put the port in. Clint’s body was full of scars, so he assumed Bucky’s attention wouldn’t fall directly on the incision site, but it did. The Winter Soldier caught onto things quickly and Clint was stupid to think that he wouldn’t. “What’s this from? Looks new...”

“Hmm?” Clint looked down trying to look dumb. “Oh, that? I don’t remember actually. I think it happened on one of our missions. Probably glass or something stupid. You know me.”

“Right...” Bucky said, not convinced. His fingers carefully traced down to where the infusion port laid just below his skin and looked Clint dead in the eye. There was enough muscle left on Clint’s pecks that it didn’t show as horribly as it did with other people, but it still showed.

Clint avoided his glance, trying to come with an explanation for it if he asked about it. He didn’t ask, he just kept trailing his fingers down Clint’s stomach until his hands were resting on the archer's hips.

“I know you weren’t going to the gym much when you were sick, Clint, but how long has it been?”

“Doctor had me laying low for a while until everything cleared out of my system. It was more than just a cold. So, she got me on some new medication and I spent my time in bed. I’ve been to the gym a couple of times since then, but it’s not the same without any of you guys to spar with.” Clint said, trying his hardest not to slip up on his words. He thought he did alright with that explanation, and it honestly looked like he’d fooled Bucky. “Think I’m getting fat? I’ve actually been trying to eat pretty well recently.”

“Fat?” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head and kissed Clint’s nose. “Nah, honey, you’re just looking skinny. Can’t say I don’t like it, but...”

“You sure gotta way with words, Buckaroo,” the blond teased and pulled Bucky into a kiss.

They spent most of the evening in the shower, kissing and talking and having a good time.

When the water got cold, Clint brought Bucky back to bed and did all the things he knew Bucky loved when he got home from missions, despite not feeling great himself. He loved making love to Bucky, and some nausea wasn’t going to change that.

For the first time since being diagnosed, Clint got a good night sleep all wrapped up in Bucky’s arms.

Xxx

Clint came home after his first bout of outpatient chemo, it officially marked a month since the end of his mark in hell. When he opened the door, Bucky was sitting on the couch like waiting for him. Clint told Bucky that morning he had a few errands that he needed to run and wanted to do some Christmas shopping without Bucky there.

He had started lying the night that Bucky got home, and he could stop. Everything just started piling on top of each other, and even if he wanted to find a way out of it all without pissing Bucky off, he probably wasn’t going to.

Clint smiled, sluggishly making his way into the living room after he slipped off his shoes and took off his jacket. He felt like crap, but he was going to act like he was okay in hopes that Bucky wouldn’t catch on to the fact that something wasn’t right. He’d done alright so far.

The archer froze when his boyfriend didn’t smile back at him, realizing that Bucky had a rather serious look on his face and was holding one of Clint’s pill bottles in his hands.

“How long have you been taking these for?” the brunet asked, pursing his lips together at the blond. Before giving him a chance to answer, Bucky continued, “I figured something was up, I mean, you’ve been acting weird and all since I got home. Then, I found these in your drawer in the bathroom.”

Drawer in the bathroom, Clint thought, he took his nausea medication to the hospital with him to get a refill, so Bucky was holding his pain medicine.

“Clint... are you having issues with pain medicine? The people at the VA, they talk about stuff like this, the opioid crisis and all...” Bucky said, pushing himself out of his seat. He closed the gap between the two of them, Clint still frozen in the entryway. “I want to help you, honey. I’m not mad at you, I just want to know.”

Clint could feel himself turn green as he looked up at Bucky. He shook his head quickly and put his hand over his mouth before bolting into the bathroom. He shut and locked the door so Bucky wouldn’t see him like that, barely making it to the toilet. He'd already puked up most of what he’d had for breakfast at the hospital, so whatever was coming out now was mostly clear liquids that tasted like poison and stomach acid.

“Clint? What’s going on?” Bucky asked, trying to shimmy open the bathroom door. “Clint, Come on. Open up!”

The archer puked and heaved until nothing came up, eventually he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He wanted to lay on the cool tile all day and pretend like none of this was happening. Despite everything, he managed to pick himself up off the bathroom floor, flush the toilet and swish some mouthwash between his teeth.

He opened the door with a groan, leaned against the frame, and looked at Bucky with half-lidded eyes. “I think I ate something nasty, Buck. Got some of the chicken from the place in the middle of the mall and haven’t been feeling right since.”

Bucky sighed heavily. They weren’t done with the topic at hand and Clint knew that but right now Clint felt like crap, and if he could play it off as food poisoning, then he would. “Come on then, let’s get you to bed.”

Clint followed his boyfriends lead and plopped into his side of the bed. He took off his socks and jeans and curled on his side. 

“Small sips of water if you’re thirsty. Don’t drink it too fast, it’ll make you feel bad again,” Bucky told him and set the glass of water with a straw in it on his bedside table. He placed a mixing bowl from the kitchen next to it, so Clint could use it if he needed to puke and couldn’t get to the bathroom.

“Come here,” the blonde said quietly, patting Bucky’s side of the bed.

“Are you going to tell me why you’ve got a prescription for oxycodone?”

“Leg was hurtin’ bad when you were gone. It’s not so bad now.” Clint told him after a moment of hesitation, then patted his side of the bed again. “Only took a couple. Doc said only to take them if it gets really bad.”

The brunet let out another long sigh before carefully crawling into bed next to Clint. The archer was just drowsy now and the chemo was kicking his ass.

“Get some rest, we can talk about this later."

Clint didn’t need to be told twice. He pressed his forehead against Bucky’s chest. Bucky carefully took his hearing aids out for him and set them aside so he could get some good sleep, and laid with him until he woke up a couple hours later.

Clint shifted with a groan, wishing he had the pain medicine Bucky confiscated a couple of hours earlier. He licked dry lips and looked up at the ceiling. “I feel like I’m dying,” he joked, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Not on my watch, you aren’t,” Bucky said and kissed the top of his head. “Do you feel like eating anything? I can make you some soup?”

“Yeah, soup sounds good. Maybe some of the chicken noodle soup you make, only without the chicken?”

“I can do that. I’ll have to run to the store. Think you’ll be okay for the next twenty minutes?” The soldier asked and kissed the top of his head.

“Yeah, I’ll be right here.”

When Bucky left the apartment, Clint didn’t stay in bed. Instead of searching for his pain medicine, he took some Tylenol instead. He knew Bucky probably hid it from him to see if Clint would go searching for it, so searching for it wasn’t an option. With Bucky being gone, he took the opportunity to take all of his evening meds and the new prescription of prednisone he was supposed to be taking for the next week.

By the time Bucky got home, Clint was back in bed, curled under the blankets like he hadn’t gotten up at all.

The next week was full of mood swings, puke and more lies. Thankfully, as Christmas grew closer, Bucky was out Christmas shopping and Clint found every excuse to hang out with Natasha. Natasha dealt with the mood swings like a champ, and Bucky, well if Bucky knew what Clint was upset about when he was mad, or sad, or hungry, then he probably would have dealt with the matter a lot better.

The lies continued to build.

Xxx

Clint woke up on December 23rd in pain. Searing pain, stabbing pain, pain greater than he’d ever felt before. It was like someone had stabbed a flaming knife directly into his femur, and twisted it in every different direction. He pushed himself to a sit, trying to put pressure on the nonexistent wound. The pressure only made it hurt worse and he screamed a blood-curdling scream that had Bucky bolting upright.

“Clint?” He quickly shifted, pulling the archer into his arms, he grabbed his hearing aids off the bedside table and put them in for Clint, combing his fingers through his short blond hair. “Honey, it’s only a dream, you’re okay.”

Clint shook his head, tears in his eyes as he sobbed loudly, “Help! Help Bucky, help!”

“Shh, I’m right here, sweetheart, it’s okay, just a dream.” Bucky cooed, massaging his hands up and down Clint’s middle like he normally did when Clint had nightmares or night terrors. His attention fell to where Clint’s hands were, and carefully peeled them off the archer's thigh to see if there was anything actually wrong with it. The movement changed from too much pressure to too little pressure quickly and had Clint screaming louder. Bucky’s face contorted to worry when he saw nothing was wrong with his leg. Part of him wondered if he did something to Clint while they were sleeping, but the fact that there were no marks, no... nothing, left Bucky clueless.

“Bucky, help!” Clint sobbed frantically, shifting his body in multiple different directions in an attempt to find comfort and make the pain go away.

“Trying to, Clint. Tell me what to do?” Bucky asked, wiping tears from Clint’s eyes. When Clint didn’t answer, Bucky turned his head so Clint could see his lips while he spoke, “Clint! Tell me what I need to do!”

“Hospital!” Clint managed between snotty, hoarse yelps, “Call an ambulance! Need... Fuck!” He whined, burying his face in Bucky’s shoulder. “Need Doctor Jensen at Columbia University Medical Center.”

Bucky nodded, carefully easing his grasp around Clint so he could get out of bed and to his phone that was charging in the kitchen. When he opened the door to the bedroom, Lucky, who’d been scratching at the door, rushed into the bedroom and onto the bed to check on Clint.

“Lucky, this isn’t good...” Clint whispered to his dog, letting out a few silent sobs.

Bucky called 911, and hurriedly dressed while he talked on the phone. “They’re going to be here in a few minutes Clint, alright? It’s going to be okay.” He said softly, bringing some clothes over for Clint to change into. “I’m gonna put these on you and carry you downstairs, alright?”

“Okay...” Clint whimpered, slowly letting go of his leg so Bucky could put his sweats on for him.

Clint was panicked, not just because of the pain but because the lies were unfolding and Bucky was going to find out, whether Clint wanted him to or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come on Christmas Eve! Let me know what you think!


	4. It's Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas... In the Hospital.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's rushed to the hospital, Bucky finds out he's sick and Christmas is celebrated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone, and for those of you who don't celebrate; happy holidays! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I tried to leave this one on a happy note.

“What’s your name, sir?” The paramedic asked when Bucky placed Clint on the stretcher.

“Clinton Francis Barton,” Clint answered, bleary-eyed. In the time it took Bucky to get the archer dressed and downstairs, he’d calmed down a bit but was still in an immense amount of pain. 

“Alright, I’m going to get you started on some fluids alright? Make sure you’re hydrated and everything, can you think of anything that may have brought this on?”

“‘Kay,” Clint swallowed thickly, avoiding eye contact with Bucky. “High-risk ALL. Port might be easier to access than finding a vein in my arm.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky nearly choked.

The medic looked from Bucky to Clint and nodded, “I’ll let the hospital get you started on fluids then. We don’t keep those needles on board. For now, I’ll get some heart monitors on you, alright? Just hang in there.”

Everything from then on out was a blur. The paramedic radioed the hospital and updated them on the situation so when they got to the hospital, Clint was immediately taken to a private room in the ER. They quickly got an identification band put on him, and the nurse had Clint take his shirt off so she could numb the skin around his port.

“We’re going to let that sit for a few minutes. Are you doing alright? What’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?” The nurse asked.

“When I woke up, it was probably a nine. It’s dulled down to about an 8.” He told her, shifting with a groan.

“Alright, we’ll see what we can do about that, okay?” she told Clint, then turned to Bucky. “Can I get a copy of your driver’s license and we will get you an ID sticker printed out?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky said, pulled his wallet out and handed it over to her. When she left, he sat down next to the gurney and licked his lips. “You gotta tell me what’s going on, Clint. I... Clint, what does high-risk ALL mean?”

This was it. Clint was going to have to tell him. He’d spent the last two and a half, nearly three months dreading the look on his face, the tone of his voice, and possibly the look of heartbreak in his eyes. But now? Now there was no avoiding it. He didn’t have any excuses as to why they were sitting in the emergency room, and he sure as hell didn’t have any good explanations to what high-risk ALL meant, other than what it was. Cancer.

Clint looked down. He looked at the door hoping the nurse would come back and save him from having to tell Bucky. He looked anywhere but Bucky and the soldier let out a heavy sigh.

“Clint, I know you’ve been keeping something from me. I’m not stupid. You may be good at lying to other people, but you suck at lying to me. Ever since I got home, I’ve tried to respect your privacy by not going through your things, or following you out when you say you’re going to the mall to do Christmas shopping. I know you’re full of shit because you hate Christmas shopping, and you never come home with anything anyways,” Bucky told him and took the archers hand in his, “whatever it is, I’m here for you, you got it? Tell me what it means.”

Clint let out a heavy sigh, contemplating how to best soften the blow. He could skirt around it, or he could just tell him. Why did he think that keeping something like this from Bucky was going to work, anyway? He was fucking stupid for not telling him earlier. He just couldn’t find the words, and he can’t exactly find them now, either.

“High-risk acute lymphoblastic leukemia,” Clint said quietly, still avoiding eye contact. “I’m sick, Buck.”

There was a small grunt from where Bucky was sitting. It was the exact grunt he used when he tried to hide the fact that he was in some kind of pain. Clint had only heard it a couple of times, and every other time Bucky made that noise was when he got shot or that time a building fell on top of him.

Clint couldn’t bear the thought of looking at him, because all he could imagine were Bucky’s hurt blue eyes staring back at him with an expression like a kicked puppy that made Clint’s stomach twist in all kinds of knots.

“O... Okay,” the soldier swallowed thickly. “How bad is it?”

“Last I was told; I was in remission. Not so sure about that anymore,” the blond responded with a horribly timed chuckle. There was a long, awkward pause after that, and Clint stared at the wall as Bucky struggled to find the words to respond.

“How long have you known?” Bucky asked, managing to keep his tone steady.

“A couple of days after you left,” he shamefully glanced at Bucky, and then back at the wall, not wanting to continue the conversation. He was tired and in pain, but he could tell that Bucky wanted clarification. He didn’t know that he went through a month of chemo. Hell, he didn’t even know that Clint was taking chemo at home. Clint thought he only suspected that Clint might have had a drug problem. Whether or not he had connected the dots to something bigger, Clint wasn’t sure.

 

To Clint’s relief, one of the emergency room doctors stepped in with the nurse who’d helped them earlier. The nurse handed Bucky his driver’s license and the ID sticker to wear in the hospital.

“Mr. Barton, I’m Doctor Muller one of the doctors here in the emergency department. I spoke with Doctor Jensen and we’re going to go ahead access your port, draw some blood, and get you started on some fluids; morphine included. We just need you to sign some papers first to get you checked in, and consent to do any tests we need to do to figure out the source of your pain. Doctor Jensen will be coming in later this morning to take over the case and look over whatever tests we do in the next few hours, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Clint said, reaching for the clipboard to sign his life away again.

The archer sat back when he was finished, watching as the nurse cleaned the area around his port. Bucky had always been interested in science as a kid, and since Steve was almost always in the hospital when they were young, he had learned a thing or two about putting in an IV. An infusion port was a lot different, so he watched with curiosity, furrowing his brow when the nurse accessed it. Clint seemed to be handling it okay, despite the fact they were hooking up a catheter to something in his chest. He watched as she put a dressing over it, then glanced up when the archer swallowed thickly, holding still while she drew blood and hooked up the IV.

“Does that hurt?” Bucky asked carefully, looking up at Clint as the nurse finished.

“Pinched a little when she put it in. Leg hurts a lot worse,” Clint told him, licking chapped lips. “If you think that was weird, wait until they do a lumbar puncture.”

Bucky’s face twisted uneasily; a mix of sadness, hurt, anger and pity that Clint didn’t quite understand. Clint turned away so he didn’t have to see his face anymore, watching what the nurse and doctor were doing.

“When was your last appointment, Clint?” The doctor asked, looking at his chart.

“I had a blood draw and chemo last Thursday. Doc said my blood counts looked okay and we were going to do a spinal tap on the 28th to see if I’m still doing alright a month and a half post induction. Guessing we get to do that today, huh?” He asked, feeling the morphine start to edge into his system.

“Yeah, we’re going to get you scheduled for a lumbar puncture and an MRI, just to check and see if cancer may have spread elsewhere if it’s back. It’s unlikely that it’s happened, we just want to check,” the doctor explained.

“Okay, thanks.”

The doctor and the nurse left soon after that, leaving Clint and Bucky alone again. Aside from the monitors, the room was completely silent, making Clint uncomfortable. He knew Bucky was upset, but he was the one who lied to him and there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

After a half an hour, the nurse came back with a blood bag for Clint and hooked it up to his IV. “How’s that morphine treating you? You look like you’re enjoying it.”

“So far it’s pretty great,” He grinned lopsidedly. “Pain’s gone for the most part.”

“Good, you call me in if you need anything, alright?”

“‘Kay,” Clint nodded and looked over at Bucky when the nurse left his room. He wanted to explain, he wanted to tell Bucky that he was sorry and pull him in for a hug. He felt like an idiot for not telling him now, especially since Bucky seemed mad and the archer wasn’t sure if Bucky was mad at him for lying for so long, or because he didn’t know how to process the news. Maybe it was a combination of both. 

“M’sorry I didn’t tell you… Just didn’t know what to say. Please don’t tell the team, Bucky, please.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Clint. Not while you’re high as a kite on pain medicine,” Bucky snapped back, stressfully running his fingers through his own hair.

So, Bucky was probably mad at him. The archer took that as his cue to shut up, closing his eyes. If they weren’t going to talk them he was going to try and get some sleep.

Of course, the minute he felt like he was falling asleep, the doctor and the nurse were back in his room with the supplies they needed to stab a giant needle into his spine. He’d had a few before this one, but that didn’t mean that he was anywhere close to liking them.

The doctor talked him through the process even though he already knew the drill. To Clint’s surprise, Bucky was up on his feet and reaching for his hand when he rolled onto his side. The soldier wasn’t paying attention to him, though. He was watching as the doctor injected the general anesthesia and as the needle was pushed into his hip. Clint gave Bucky’s hand a small squeeze, but Bucky didn’t glance down at him.

Once he was all bandaged up, Clint laid back and rubbed his face with the back of his hand.

An hour went by without either of them saying anything. Clint looked over at Bucky a few times, and his boyfriend was busy staring at the wall and chewing on his lip like he always did when there was something he wanted to say, but wasn’t going to say it. The blond didn’t have the energy to deal with it, so he wasn’t going to ask. Morphine made him weepy, though, and Clint couldn’t help the few tears that slipped out of his eyes as he thought that this could be it; Bucky was done with him. 

The MRI tech broke the silence a few minutes later. He took Clint to the MRI and brought him back about an hour later.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asked when they were alone again. He stated the words as if it were something his mother had forced him to ask and he didn’t care how Clint was feeling or not.

“Okay, I guess,” the archer responded, closing his eyes.

“Want me to get the nurse to get you more opioids?” the soldier responded, putting extra emphasis on opioids.

“No.”

He was being petty and it took all that Clint had left in him not to sass him back. Clint just closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath so he didn’t lash out; with the morphine in his system, he was agitated and tired. Bucky wasn’t helping either.

“If you say so,” Bucky retorted.

“Go get yourself a cup of coffee or something, for Christ sake. Eat if you need to eat. I’ll be right here,” he groaned, opening his eyes to look at his boyfriend.

“No.”

“If you say so,” Clint said in the same snippy tone Bucky used before.

Bucky didn’t respond after that, the room falling silent once more. Clint didn’t have the energy for this shit, but he supposed this is the punishment he got for keeping it from Bucky for so long. He kind of deserved it, he thought.

It wasn’t too much longer before Doctor Jensen showed up, knocking on Clint’s door. Bucky sat up from his slack position in the chair next to Clint’s bed, and the archer opened his eyes.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you back here so soon,” He said, looking at Clint, then over to Bucky. “Hi there, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Doctor Jensen,” he offered out his hand to Bucky, which the soldier took.

“Bucky,” he responded giving the doctor a nod.

“Is this the one I’ve heard so much about?” The doctor smiled at Clint, and the archer nodded.

“Yep, this is him,” he smiled in response, noticing how much closer Bucky had gotten since the doctor came in the room. Doctor Jensen was good looking after all, and even though Bucky was mad at Clint, the blond was still his.

“Nice to finally meet you, sir, though I have to say, I hate that it’s like this,” Jensen told Bucky politely.

“Makes two of us,” the soldier responded shortly.

There was a moment of awkward silence in the room before Doctor Jensen turned to Clint’s file, and looked a few things over.

“Alright, well, it looks like you came in for severe bone pain. I got a look at your MRI and it didn’t show anything out of the ordinary. It’s your blood culture I’m a little worried about. Your counts are really low, and you’re neutropenic, so we’re going to need to keep you here for the next couple of days. If your counts miraculously come up, then we might discuss going home for Christmas, but for now, I’m going to get you transferred out of emergency and up to the acute oncology ward while I go over your lumbar results with a lab tech. Alright?”

Clint tossed his head back in frustration, but nodded at the doctor, “thanks, doc.”

Susan, one of Clint’s favorite nurses from induction was down about fifteen minutes later to take them up to a room that was across the hall from where Clint had spent induction in. She helped him get settled, gave him some more pain medicine and everything else the doctor instructed her to do.

“I’m assuming you’re the Bucky this guy is always talking about?” She asked, barely looking up from what she was doing with Clint’s IV.

“That’s me,” Bucky nodded, biting his lip. “Funny that you guys seem to know so much about me and I know so little about you.”

“Bucky,” Clint started, sounding impatient.

“What, Clint? I thought we said no more secrets, and here you’ve been keeping something so important from me. I just found out my boyfriend has cancer. I’m allowed to be upset!”

“Now,” Susan says interrupting Clint from saying anything too stupid, which he’s more than thankful for. “How about you, Bucky, go pack a bag at home for your stay here. Clint, do you have anything you want him to bring?”

“My hat, please. Some sweaters, preferably yours. Please take Lucky for a walk too, and maybe see if Natasha or Steve will watch him.” Clint says, looking over at Bucky who’d barely looked at him all morning. “You don’t need to come back if you don’t want to. I can handle this all on my own. Didn’t want to burden you with it anyway.”

They made eye contact for a fraction of a second after that, Bucky’s nodded curtly and left.

“Susan, I think I fucked up,” Clint said when he knew Bucky was long gone.

Xxx

Bucky headed home first. He didn’t bother taking a taxi, he just ran, hoping it would let out all his pent-up frustrations at the world that his boyfriend had cancer.

He’d considered the idea when he first got home from the mission. He thought that Clint didn’t look right, but he brushed over it, thinking that he was crazy for thinking that the archer was sick and didn’t tell him.

While he sat next to Clint in the hospital, while he held his hand through the lumbar puncture and while the blond slept, Bucky wondered what he said or did to make Clint think he couldn’t handle the diagnosis, or why Clint would want to go through something like this on his own. Bucky knew Clint. He knew that he hated hospitals and yet, he’d been in one for god knows how long while he was off playing hero and taking down Hydra.

He wanted to yell at Clint, to tell him that he was fucking stupid for going through something like that alone because who knows what might have happened, what could have happened while they were gone. Bucky had left their apartment that night without even saying goodbye or telling him that he loved him one last time.

If he had taken Clint to the doctor when his fever wouldn’t break, or when Clint woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night, when Bucky knew something wasn’t right; then Clint wouldn’t have had to go through everything alone. Bucky wouldn’t have gone on that mission; he would have been with Clint for everything. He would have been there to process the diagnosis with him. He would have been there when they put that thing in his chest and he would have been there for everything.

When Bucky reached their front door, the run hadn’t been enough. He wanted-- he needed to punch something, someone. So, the wall dividing the bathroom and their living room got the first blow. Then he took a swing at one of the walls in the kitchen and decided that putting holes in the wall of their home wasn’t helping his frustration.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Bucky yelled at no one, then repeated Clint’s words, “didn’t want to burden you with it anyway?!”

He growled as he quickly packed up all the things Clint had asked for and a couple of things for himself. Then he looped the dog on his leash and jogged across town to the tower.

He pounded on Natasha’s door first, with her being Clint’s best friend she probably knew. Maybe everyone knew and Bucky was the only one who didn’t.

The minute she opened the door, she tried to hide the expression of shock on her face. “James, are you alright?”

“Did you know? Did you know he was sick?” Bucky said, letting the dog into her apartment.

Natasha took a few seconds to carefully formulate her response. “Is he okay?”

“So you knew? You knew and you didn’t tell me? Why?” The soldier fumed.

“It wasn’t my place to tell, James. It was something he needed to tell you himself. He didn’t want anyone getting distracted or hurt while we were out on the mission. It’s not that I liked keeping it from you but again, it wasn’t my place to tell,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Did he finally fess up?”

“No! You want to know how I had to find out? By rushing him to the emergency room this morning!” He yelled, and Natasha deflated a little.

“You need to calm down before you go back and see him, James. I’ll go check up on him and call you if anything happens, alright? Go find a punching bag or something, you look like you need it,” Natasha told him, handing Lucky’s leash back to him. “Give the dog to Steve or something, but please don’t upset Clint by doing anything stupid.”

Bucky heeded Natasha’s advice and went directly to Steve’s apartment in Brooklyn with Lucky in toe. He knocked furiously on his door until the other super soldier opened it. 

“He told you too, didn’t he? Does everyone know except for me?” Bucky asked with a crack in his voice. 

“Did who tell me what?” Steve asked, running fingers through wet hair. He’d just gotten out of the shower after his morning run and was a little surprised to see Bucky on his doorstep. He stepped back, opening the door to let his old friend step into his apartment with Clint’s dog and walked towards his room to change out of his robe and into clothes.

“Clint. Did you know he has cancer?” Bucky asked after closing the door behind himself.

Steve stopped in his tracks halfway to the bedroom and turned to look at Bucky. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” The brunet demanded in an accusing tone.

“No, Bucky, fuck, I didn’t know that,” Steve responded honestly. “Is he going to be okay?”

It took him a few moments to answer. He let go of Lucky’s leash, put the bag down and went to sit at Steve’s table. “I... I don’t know. I had to rush him to the emergency room this morning because he was screaming in pain. I figured that he was having a nightmare or something… but then he begged me to call an ambulance,” he paused and rubbed his face. Clint had asked him not to tell anyone, but how was he supposed to keep something like that a secret, especially from his best friend?

“Turns out he’s been lying to me, to all of us. He has leukemia, Steve. He found out he was sick while we were gone and as far as I know, Natasha is the only person he’s told. How could he keep something like that from me, Steve? From all of us?”

The blond sighed, quickly retreating to his room to finish changing. He came back out into the kitchen and sat across from Bucky. “It’s because he’s Clint.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the one who told me that he’s probably the most stubborn person that you’ve ever met. He’s the guy who doesn’t exactly like everyone’s attention being on him at once, and he’d much rather let himself bleed out than let one of his teammates get hurt,” Steve answered with a sigh. “I’m not saying it’s right that he didn’t tell you, because it’s not. He most certainly should have told you, I’m just trying to give you some perspective.”

“It’s not right, Steve! He could have died!”

“I know it’s not right, Bucky, but he’s not dead. Come on, let’s go to the gym or for a run. Let you get some of your pent up energy out before you go back and see him.”

“That’s what Natasha said,” the soldier said with a half-hearted chuckle, but got up to go with Steve anyways.

They went to the gym, and Bucky carefully wrapped up his fingers and matched himself up with a punching bag. Ten minutes in, he started to calm down. He thought about how he probably royally fucked up that morning. Fuck, Clint probably thought that he was pissed off at him. While yes, Bucky was upset with him for not telling him, he wasn’t mad at the archer. He was pissed off at a number of other things, like the fact that his boyfriend has cancer, and there is nothing that Bucky can do about it other than hold Clint’s hand through hospital stays and doctor visits. 

After an hour of hitting the punching bag, he showered up at Steve’s place. He headed in the direction of the hospital after that. On his way, he found himself in Clint’s favorite coffee shop, drinking his favorite drink. The words the archer had said earlier that morning continued to haunt Bucky; “I didn’t want you to burden you with this anyway.” Bucky didn’t fully understand what Clint meant by those words, but he had a pretty good idea.

Clint was a self-deprecating asshole who didn’t like to bother people with his own problems. It was one of the things Bucky liked when he first met Clint; he kept to himself for the most part. He didn’t expect him to be the James Buchanan Barnes that Steve Rogers knew and loved. He didn’t care that he was some brainwashed assassin; he just told him to get in line.

He eventually finished the coffee, he headed back to the hospital with a calm and clear head. He was ready to try and handle things like an adult and not how he had treated Clint earlier that morning.

When Bucky returned to Clint’s room, Natasha was sitting with him, watching as he picked through the contents of the breakfast the hospital provided. Natasha looked up first, then Clint, who promptly looked back down at his food.

Bucky set down the duffle bag in the corner of the room and rummaged through it. He pulled out Clint’s hat and brought it over to the bed, putting it on the archer’s head.

“Are you still mad at me?” the blond asked quietly, looking up as Bucky put his hat on. His voice was small and full of guilt, like a child who’d been scolded by his parents.

The soldier felt his breath hitch in his chest and tighten as he tried to formulate the words to respond. He carefully leaned down and pulled Clint into a hug and shook his head. “I’m not mad at you, Clint. I mean, I’m a little upset that you lied to me and everything, but baby, I’m not mad at you,” he said, his response breathy. “I’m sorry for how I acted this morning. That wasn’t fair to you and I’m sorry, really.”

“It wasn’t fair that I didn’t tell you--”

“You are damn right it wasn’t fair. I know you seem to have something against other people taking care of you, honey, but if we are going to be in this together for the long haul, you have got to be honest with me. I want to be here for you. I want to help you. This isn’t a burden for me, baby. Please know that. I don’t know what made you think that, but you will never be a burden to me.”

Things seemed to be okay after that. Bucky was in a much better mood than he had been before he left, so Nat said her goodbyes and gave the two of them space to talk, which Clint was thankful for. There were things they obviously needed to talk about, even though he’s not entirely sure that Bucky didn’t spend his entire time gone hacking into the hospitals' database to read through his files.

“So, cancer, huh?” Bucky says awkwardly when they’re alone.

“Yeah, though as a wisecrack once told me, as much as my cancer might be a pain in the ass, it’s not ass cancer, so it certainly could be worse,” Clint tried, but Bucky didn’t look all too amused. “Tough crowd.”

“Sorry, I’m just... I’m trying to wrap my head around all this. If you had leukemia when Steve and I were growing up, it was a death sentence. But I’m guessing with modern medicine and everything, survival rates are a lot better and everything, huh?”

“That’s at least what they tell me, yeah,” Clint nodded, reaching for Bucky’s hand. “My situations a bit different, though, most cases of ALL happen in children or in the elderly. It’s not typically diagnosed in young adults, which makes treatment plans and everything a bit more difficult... I don’t know, this probably isn’t reassuring you.”

“It’s better than nothing...” Bucky said with a shrug, “what is the treatment plan?”

“Well, I had what they call induction therapy, which is basically chemo for a month straight while they kill all the cancer cells in your body. I had to stay in the hospital for that month, because they killed my immune system too. Now, I take oral chemo every day and some other drugs, come in every other week for blood tests, once a month for chemo, and once every three months for lumbar punctures with spinal chemo, which is just as horrific as it sounds because they inject chemo into my spine.” Clint gave Bucky’s hand a squeeze. “It’s basically two years of this, and I should be alright after that. At some point, I’m going to need a bone marrow transplant, but they need to find a donor first.”

“Right, but you’re going to be okay?”

“I sure as hell hope, Bucky. I thought I’d die in battle, or something cool like that. Not in a hospital surrounded by machines.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

Clint looked at Bucky for a while and let out a long sigh. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. I didn’t want you to get distracted. I didn’t and I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me. I know you didn’t exactly like taking care of Steve all the time.”

“Christ, Clint,” Bucky said, getting up to look the archer in the face. “I know I don’t have to take care of you. I want to take care of you. I love you, Clint.”

“I love you too,” He said quietly and leaned in to kiss Bucky, Bucky kissing him back.

Xxx

The next afternoon the entire team showed up during visiting hours, and Clint was less than happy. When Tony walked into the room, the archer gave Bucky a glare that screamed what did you do? All the soldier could do was give him a sheepish smile and hope that everything worked out okay.

“Barton! You didn’t think we’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you? Also, why is it that every time I see you you’re either in your uniform or in the hospital,” Tony said, pushing his way into the room and setting down something that looked like Christmas decorations.

“Tony, don’t,” Steve said in a way that told Clint they probably had a talk before coming to see him. “Hey Clint, I know it’s only Christmas Eve, but seeing as though we normally do a Christmas dinner or something, we decided to bring the party to you for the day... I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Clint said with a stiff nod. “But I swear to fucking god I will kick you all out if you play that Mariah Carey song.”

Sam let out a snort, which seemed to break down the tension enough for everyone to start making themselves comfortable in his room. It was nowhere near big enough for everyone, but they were making it work.

“Did you get the results from your spinal tap yesterday?” Natasha asked, moving past Tony and Steve to sit at the foot of Clint’s bed.

“Yeah, this morning. Everything is looking okay. Cancer’s not back, which is a good sign. Doesn’t mean I’m out of the woods,” he told her, keeping his eye on Tony as he Wanda and Bruce started to unload the box of decorations he’d brought. "They're not sure why I woke up in so much pain, but Doctor Jensen said I was severely anemic. He's thinking it might have something to do with that, but they ran some more blood tests this morning just in case."

Bucky and Sam said their hellos before Bucky got up to see what Tony had brought. He quickly snatched up something small and green and headed Clint’s way.

He held up a mistletoe and inched closer to the archer. Clint just rolled his eye and leaned away when Bucky tried to kiss him.

“Clint! It’s mistletoe, it’s tradition,” Bucky said, pouting his lip out.

“I don’t care about tradition. I’m mad at you,” Clint said with mock anger. He wasn’t actually mad at Bucky, just annoyed.

“Mad at me?” The soldier asked, cocking a brow. It took him a few seconds before he finally caught on. “Oh, come on, Mr. Grinch! They just want to celebrate Christmas with you.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to have the most awkward Christmas dinner ever.”

“It won’t be so bad,” Bucky said, quickly leaning in to steal a kiss.

“Won’t be so bad, right,” Clint said but kissed Bucky back anyways. 

It wasn’t so bad having everyone around. It was crowded, sure, but they livened up the place in a way that Clint wished they could have through his induction therapy. They made the place feel less like a hospital and more at home. 

There were moments where Clint felt awkward because everyone got quiet and all eyes were on him when the nurse came in to switch out the blood bag for a bag of platelets, then asked him about his pain and everything else she needed to do. Eventually one of the doctors on rotation came into tell him that his numbers were coming up, which was a great sign, however he was still going to have to stick to hospital food by the time dinner came around.

After a while, the team had all the Christmas decorations set up, and it honest to god looked like Santa threw up all over the place. Tony’s always one to do things in a go big or go home sort of way. While he normally would have made a comment about it being too much for his taste, he decided to keep his mouth shut. The decorations were a nice change of pace, and it sure as hell beat the plain white walls of the hospital room that he stared at for more than a month. 

When Clint’s dinner finally came, the rest of the team dished up their food. Bucky came and sat next to Clint in the hospital bed, and the archer looked from his plate to his boyfriends. “This is cruel, you know that, right?”

“I promise I’ll make sure that Tony keeps the leftovers for you and only you.” Bucky told him, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Besides, your Christmas dinner doesn’t look half bad. Looks better than what they gave you for breakfast this morning.”

“You’re not wrong,” the archer snorted, scratching the dressing around his port. 

By the time everyone was settled, Clint started eating his less than favorable Christmas dinner. It’s not the worst Christmas dinner he’d ever had, but it certainly was not the best either. 

Halfway through the meal, Bruce and Tony started to go off about technologies that they could use that would potentially cure his disease. While he expected nothing less from the two, the way they discussed the technologies, possible side effects and everything else, Clint was a little overwhelmed. 

By the time visiting hours were over, Clint was absolutely exhausted. 

The nurse told everyone that it was time to leave, so they started rounding up the leftovers (Bucky told Tony to make sure there was plenty left for Clint when he was checked out of the hospital), then cleaned up some of the decorations.

“Guys,” Clint started before they left his room. “Just a couple things before you go. One, pleasepleasepleaseplease keep this from the press. I really don’t need the stress of camera crews around every time I go in for an appointment. Two, I know I was a grouch for part of today, but I do appreciate you guys and you made my day go by so much faster. Thirdly, Merry Christmas ya filthy animals.”

“Merry Christmas, Clint,” Steve said in return, and the rest said their goodbye before heading out. It wasn’t an ideal holiday evening, but it wasn’t the worst one he’d had either.

Maybe everyone knowing he was sick wasn’t such a bad thing.

Xxx  
The next morning Clint woke up to Bucky sitting in the chair next to his bed with a Santa hat pulled over his eyes. Clint couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle, then got himself out of bed to use the toilet. 

He came back to bed and nudged Bucky gently. “Merry Christmas, Buck.”

The soldier let out a small groan and pushed the Santa hat up to his forehead, blinking his eyes open slowly. “Merry Christmas, Clint,” Bucky replied and leaned forward to kiss Clint on the forehead. “How are you feeling this morning? Need anything?”

“I feel alright, actually. I’m just ready to go home and sleep in our bed.”

“No shit,” the brunet teased, shifting so he could pop his neck from the awkward position he was sleeping.

“The nurse brought in a bed for you, you idiot, you didn’t have to sleep in the chair,” Clint laughed, inching over to give Bucky enough room to sit in bed with him. 

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Bucky said, moving into bed with Clint and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “They said everything was looking good last night while you were sleeping. Your... Numbers?” the soldier paused, and Clint nodded.

“Yeah, blood count numbers, white blood cell, ANC, all that jazz.”

“Your numbers were looking good, and they said if they came up a little more this morning, then there was a chance that they would discharge you this morning,” Bucky told him, intertwining their fingers. “So, I told the team to hold off on opening presents until we got word.” 

“God, I hope I get to break out of here. I spent an entire month in here while you were gone, and I honestly don’t know how I did it. Natasha stayed with me for the week that she was here, but....”

“Yeah, you still have a lot of explaining to do,” Bucky said, looking at Clint. “I’m not going to make you do it on Christmas, but we are going to talk.” 

“Figured as much,” Clint shrugged, shifting slightly when the nurse came in his room. She brought his breakfast, asked her usual questions and took some blood from him before leaving the room again. 

After about an hour, the doctor on call entered the room with some papers for Clint. “I just got off the phone with Doctor Jensen, and he wishes you a very Merry Christmas because you are out of here. Your numbers are up high enough for discharge.”

“Merry fucking Christmas to me,” Clint laughed, reaching for the discharge papers. “What are the terms and conditions?”

“If you get a fever, or you start feeling sick, you’re in pain again; you check back into the hospital. I’m going to send you home with some papers with instructions to follow, and we’ll get you an appointment set up with Doctor Jensen later this week. As for now, go ahead and pack up, and I’ll send a nurse in to deaccess your port, then you’re free to go.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, pushing himself out of bed with Clint to start packing up some of the things in their room. 

“Merry Christmas,” the doctor nodded, then left the room after Clint finished signing the papers.

The nurse came by a few minutes later, discussed his check out instructions, then deaccessed his port for him. They went out to reception to schedule another appointment when Bucky finished packing, then they were on their way home.

They stopped by their apartment first. They showered, changed, and Clint finished wrapping his presents. He had planned to do it on Christmas Eve like he always did, but the plan hadn’t worked out has he had hoped. 

Once everything was loaded in the car, they headed to the Tower to celebrate Christmas. 

Brunch was waiting for them when they arrived, and Bucky hovered a bit while Clint picked out what he was going to have. He’d basically memorized what the archer could and couldn’t be eating for the next few days, and wanted to make sure that Clint wasn’t going to unintentionally eat anything that he shouldn’t. 

After brunch was presents. A lot of the gifts were funny, like the candied arrows that Bucky got Clint, or the matching shirts Natasha got the two snipers that read “I’m with Stupid.” Steve went with more practical gift ideas, getting Clint a purple Henley, so he would stop stealing Bucky’s. Tony got Bucky and Clint an espresso machine for their apartment, one that would make the archers coffee as black as he liked it, and the soldier’s coffee as frilly as he needed. Bruce must have been in on the idea because they each got coffee mugs.

Clint didn’t think that he was the best gift giver, but Steve certainly liked his new art set, Bucky and Natasha liked knifes that Clint had custom made for them, Tony and Bruce got a kick out of the kids’ science set he’d found on Amazon, and Wanda seemed to enjoy the small gift basket Clint had imported from Sokovia with all her favorite foods that could be imported into the United States. Since Sam was spending Christmas with his parents, the archer would have to wait and see what Sam thought of the bird costume he got him as a joke (though he was secretly hoping they could both go as birds for Halloween next year). 

“Ready to go? You look exhausted,” Bucky said, kissing the top of Clint’s head after the archer got his fill of leftovers from the night before. 

“Not exhausted, just had a good day. And about to go into a food coma from too much turkey and stuffing,” the blond said, yawning contentedly. He leaned in and gave Bucky a hug, resting his head on his chest. 

“Let’s get going then,” Bucky hummed, giving the archer a squeeze. 

They went around saying their goodbyes, thank you’s and Merry Christmas’s before heading home. 

Clint and Bucky crawled in bed after their evening routine, and the archer felt content. The day wasn’t extravagant, but it wasn’t full of lies and tension. It hadn’t exactly been the best Christmas they had all celebrated together, but it was everything Clint could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Thanks so much for sticking around thus far!


	5. "We'll get through this"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Bucky go to therapy, a New Years Eve Party, Clint has a birthday and Clint goes to Chemo.   
> Also, Bucky Barnes gives amazing pep talks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot packed into this chapter, for which I apologize. I considered breaking it up into two chapters, but much of this chapter is Clint getting annoyed or frustrated at some of the things that Bucky says or does, yet he has a bit understanding for why he does them.  
> Again, if any of this seems a little too far-fetched, PLEASE let me know. I'm trying to make this story as believable and sincere as I can.

Between Christmas and New Year’s, Clint had three hospital visits. The first was a blood draw to see how his counts were holding. Bucky insisted on being there, and it wasn’t exactly like the archer could say no. It wasn’t anything too exciting, just a quick exam and a needle going into his arm. His blood counts were up high enough that he could resume treatment as needed, though as a precaution he would need to stick with the neutropenic diet until his next appointment.

The second hospital visit was a therapy session. While Clint didn’t exactly think that he needed to be there, Bucky came to the appointment with him anyways. He sat in the waiting room for the duration of the appointment, catching up on the latest gossip in the magazines provided by the hospital.

“Bucky?” Clint peeked his head out the door halfway through the appointment. When the soldier looked up from the article was reading (Clint could clearly see the title, which happened to be Who’s Captain America’s New Girlfriend? Steve wasn’t seeing anyone, so the fact that Bucky took the time to read the article made the archer chuckle), and he waved him over. “Uh, Doctor Moore think’s it would be good for us to, uh, to talk… with her.”

“Okay, yeah,” Bucky nodded, putting the magazine back on the table next to his seat in the waiting room. He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to Clint, putting his hand on his lower back as he followed him to the couch in the office. “Hi, uh, I’m Bucky,” he offered his hand out to her. 

“Nice to finally meet you, Bucky, I’m Doctor Moore,” she responded, shaking his hand. She gestured for him to take a seat, and looked at the two of them. “Now, before we get started, this was actually Clint’s idea. Normally I would not discuss previous conversations with my clients significant other, but he and I agreed the two of you might benefit from this. With that being said, I would like this conversation to be productive.”

“Of course,” the brunet nodded, leaning back into the leather next to Clint. 

“Okay, now, I know you recently found out about Clint’s condition in a way that wasn’t exactly ideal—“

“Yeah, having to rush him to the hospital in the middle of the night,” Bucky supplied like she didn’t already know. 

“Correct,” she nodded, trying to move past the interruption. “I would like Clint to explain himself. We have discussed this multiple times together, and I would like you to try and understand his perspective”

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, obviously trying to keep an open mind. “I would love to hear anything he has to say because he’s been dodging my questions and things the past couple of days.”

“Bucky,” Clint said, already looking like he was about to lose his patience with him. “I’m not trying to dodge your questions. I just don’t know how to answer them without sounding like an idiot. Truth be told, all of my reasons are pretty stupid.”

“Then why, Clint? Why didn’t you tell me? You lied to me for well over a month, in hundreds of different ways. How am I supposed to react to that?”

“I don’t know how you’re supposed to react to that, Buck. I was scared, okay? I was scared of what you were going to say. I was scared about what it meant for our relationship and what it meant for me. You complained about Steve all the time and having to take care of him. I don’t want you to have to take care of me. I don’t want to become a chore,” the archer said and looked at him. “It’s a lot, okay? The people at my support group, they always talk about the stress and strain of cancer on their partners, and I don’t want that to be us.”

Bucky nodded, opening his mouth and closing it, choosing his next words carefully. “Is that why you told me you didn’t want to burden me with it?”

The blond sighed heavily and nodded, scratching the back of his neck. 

“If I may,” Doctor Moore interjected, looking between the two. “Clint, can you look at me, or can you look at Bucky and tell one of us what you are sick with?”

Clint turned to Bucky and bit his lip nervously. “I… um, I have leukemia.”

“Yes, and what is leukemia?” The doctor asked. 

“It’s cancer. I have cancer,” he told Bucky and swallowed thickly.

“I know that,” the soldier said and looked to the therapist. 

“I know you know that,” she said, flipping through her notes. “Soon after Clint was checked out of the hospital he wouldn’t tell me that he had cancer, despite me already knowing he about his case and working with him for a few weeks prior to that. What I want you to understand is that denial is common among cancer patients. For Clint, it was easier to lie to you about being sick than to tell you that he had cancer.”

“Bucky, I don’t want to be sick. I don’t want any of this,” The archer said, still looking at his boyfriend. 

“I don’t want you to be sick either, Clint, but you are. We’ll get through it. You’re not Steve, and even if you were I would still take care of you. Steve is family. You… I love you, Clint,” he said, putting his hand on his knee. “Cancer or not, depression or not, I’m going to take care of you, alright? That’s what you do for people you love. You don’t lie to them and hope that everything is going to be alright if you deal with it on your own.”

“I… Bucky. It’s a lot—“

“I know, and it’s okay. You’ve helped me through so much, honey. Those first few months with you and Steve and the rest of the team, that was a lot. Half the time I wasn’t even sure who I was, but you helped me through it all. You never let me doubt myself and I can’t believe that you think I would be upset about something like this. Upset you lied? Sure. Upset there isn’t much I can do to help you? Of course. Upset that you have cancer? No fucking way. This isn’t your fault Clint. We’ve been through the thick and thin together. We’ll get through this.”

“I might not, that’s the thing,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands. 

Bucky made the noise again, the noise he made when he found out what Clint was sick with, the last time he was shot and when a building collapsed on him. He quickly tried to recover, though, taking Clint’s hands in his. “We’ll get through it.” 

“The two of you need to have open lines of communication with each other. That means keeping an open mind when discussing topics such as treatment options and hearing the other out. Cancer can be taxing on your relationship, and I might suggest couples therapy with one of my colleagues,” Doctor Moore told the two of them, digging through her desk for a business card. She handed it over to Bucky who looked it over and put it in his pocket. “You don’t have to start it right away, but it would be beneficial to talk to someone in a therapy setting.”

“Okay, thank you,” Bucky said as though he was seriously considering it. He was, he just wasn't sure he would be able to convince Clint to go. 

“Of course,” She nodded, sitting back in her seat. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I have just a few more things to discuss with Clint and then I’ll send you both on your way.”

The soldier nodded and stood up. He kissed Clint on the forehead before leaving the room. He felt that their chat was rather productive. He definitely had a better understanding of where he was coming from, though he felt awful for making Clint feel like he couldn’t tell him. That was a topic for another day. 

That week, Clint’s third visit to the hospital was for a group therapy session, which Clint argued that Bucky could stay home or walk Lucky or go for a run with Steve instead of going to the appointment with him. It wasn’t going to be anything fun or enjoyable for the soldier, and sometimes their sessions ran over an hour or Clint liked to stay for an extra cup of coffee and talk with some of the other patients at the hospital.

Bucky seemed to get the hint and backed off a little, but simply asked Clint to take a cab there and back so he didn’t catch whatever cold or flu might be going around the city at the end of December. The archer figured he could comply with that.

On New Year’s, they attended Tony’s annual New Year’s Eve Party. Everything was going great until someone started coughing in Clint’s direction and Bucky nearly had a hernia trying to usher the archer out of the area of someone who was choking on the olive in their cocktail.

Later that evening, Bucky casually swiped a glass of champagne out of Clint’s hand while he was talking to Pepper and Happy. The brunet tried to play it off like he wanted a sip but didn’t give it back to Clint after that. The archer simply took another one off a tray when a waiter went past, and the blond could see his boyfriend sigh in his peripheral.

When the alarm in Clint’s phone went off telling him that it was time to take his evening meds, Bucky was there with a glass of water and traded it for the rest of the champagne that was in Clint’s flute.

“Buck, remember when Doctor Jensen told you that I can have one glass last Wednesday?” The blond asked, after pulling the soldier aside, “Please stop stealing my drinks. I’m not going to know what one is if you keep stealing them a few sips in.”

“I know, but you need to take your medicine,” Bucky told him, kissing his forehead.

“I’ll take it when we get home, okay? I’m going to fall asleep before the ball drops if I take them right now.”

“Doc said you’re supposed to take them at roughly the same time every night,” the soldier argued, frowning at Clint.

“It’s 11, honey. I can take them at midnight and it will still be roughly the same time I took them last night. An hour isn’t that much later. Alright? I get that you’re trying to look out for me, but I want to go on like things are normal. I’ll kiss you when the ball drops, then if it makes you happy; I’ll take them just before we leave.”

“Fine. But we aren’t doing anything tomorrow, you need to rest.”

“Fine,” the archer nodded, giving him a peck on the lips. “Now come on, let me finish my drink, and let’s go dance.”

By the end of the night, Clint looked exhausted despite not taking his medication. Bucky hovered, kissed him when the ball dropped, then made sure that Clint took his medication before ushering him home.

While it was endearing that Bucky wanted to be there for him, the archer didn’t feel like the soldier needed to be there for everything. To be completely honest, Bucky was beginning driving Clint nuts.

Since he returned home from their emergency room visit, Bucky had been hovering, watching everything Clint did with his sniper's eyes. Every time he reached for a food that was on the “not recommended” list of his neutropenic diet, Bucky would comment on it, suggesting something else he could eat instead.

For example, on New Year’s Day, they ordered Thai. Bucky wouldn’t let Clint eat his Pad Thai until he was certain that the restaurant made sure that there were no vegetables or nuts put in his order, and the chicken was cooked all the way through.

When the archer went to steal a bite of Bucky’s stir-fry, the soldier batted his hand away. “Not supposed to eat veggies.”

“These are cooked veggies! They’re fine!” The blond protested with an annoyed grunt.

“No, they’re stir-fried. Look at the list. There is a difference.”

“Fuck you, they’re cooked fucking vegetables,” Clint groaned, throwing his head back.

“I’m not taking any chances. Doc said to give it a few more days, so we’re giving it a few more days.”

He wanted to be mad at him, he did, but Bucky was just trying to keep Clint healthy and he loved him for it. 

Xxx

Clint’s birthday rolled around the following week. Bucky knew he wasn’t big on celebrating it, so they agreed on a small celebration where they would invite the team over, watch movies and eat pizza and cake.

Sam, Steve, and Natasha make it over because Tony is out of town with Pepper for a winter retreat, Vision and Wanda were vacationing, and Thor was off somewhere in the Galaxy. In all honesty, if he knew the guy better, he probably would have invited Scott but he was fairly certain that he lives in California anyways and the commute probably would have been hell. So, he didn’t.

“So, what year is this?” Sam asks, plopping down on the couch next to Clint.

“The big three-oh.”

“The big three-oh,” he repeated, looking at the archer. “How in the world is it that you are older than me? I mean most of the time you act like you aren’t older than twelve.”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing,” Clint laughed, setting his soda down on the coffee table. “It probably has a lot to do with me having daddy issues and head trauma. Now, we can at least blame it on copious amounts of chemo running through my veins. They call it chemo brain for a reason, right?”

“I’m not sure that’s why they call it chemo brain,” Sam replied with a snort, “I think it’s called chemo brain because you have memory problems after going through treatment. What you’re referring to is chemo fog.”

“Yeah, well, would you look at that, you’re smarter than me too,” the archer quipped, smiling at Sam.

“I try to keep my head out of whatever I’m doing. Leads to fewer concussions and head trauma, and better cerebral function.” the winged avenger haggled, sitting forward to reach for some chips. 

“I wish someone would have told me that when I was younger. I probably would have done a lot better in school,” the blond grunted.

“Of course,” he replied, shaking his head. “When’s your next round of treatment?”

“I go in on Thursday for chemo and a blood draw,” Clint scrunched his nose, reaching for his own handful of chips.

“What are they using?”

“I don’t know, it changes a little every time. Next month I get high dose methotrexate into my spinal cord when they do a lumbar puncture, always a fun one,” he responded casually. “You know much about it?”

“Not about leukemia, but my dad had prostate cancer around the time I got out of the service. He’s doing just fine. He and my mom live out in Virginia.”

“Remission?”

“Yeah, about three years now,” Sam nodded.

While Clint and Sam were having their talk on the couch, Bucky, Natasha, and Steve were chatting in the kitchen over beers.

“Have they talked about a bone marrow transplant at all? I could probably track down Barney and force him to get tested,” Natasha asked, taking a swig of her beer.

“Evidently he’s on the registry because his best chances of staying in remission are getting a transplant, but he hasn’t brought up tracking down Barney,” Bucky replied, checking his phone to see how much longer it would be until the pizza arrived.

“Have Tony and Bruce discussed duplicating the serum?” Steve asked, putting candles on the cake he brought.

“We’re not doing that, Steve, that’s way too risky,” Bucky interjected, fixing one of the candles so it stood upright.

“It worked on you two. That doesn’t mean it’s going to work on him. Especially when he has a compromised immune system,” Natasha added.

“I had a compromised immune system,” the blond soldier responded with a shrug.

“You also had Erskine’s serum, Steve. Even Howard Stark’s serum killed off a handful of people, and it was a slow, painful death. I’d really rather not risk a slow, painful death when modern medicine is trying to prevent that,” the brunet grunted, moving the cake from the counter and into the fridge. “Clint, wanna beer?”

“You going to let me have one? Or are you going to drink most of it and let me have a sip or two?” Clint hollered back from the couch.

Bucky responded by bringing the archer a full beer, flicking the cap off with his metal thumb and handing it over. “We can discuss sharing a second one. It is your birthday after all,” he teased with a loving smile, then went back to the kitchen.

“So is that a yes or a no on me tracking down Barney and making him get tested?” Natasha asked, cocking a brow.

“Let me talk to him, alright? He doesn’t want many people finding out he’s sick, and I’m not sure I trust Barney. He might work for the FBI, but that doesn’t mean he’s one of the good guys,” he responded, pulling another beer out of the fridge for himself. “He didn’t exactly treat Clint great when they were growing up, and I don’t expect him to do the same now. I’d really rather not have to deal with the blowback of Clint being upset for us doing something without his consent.”

“Fair enough,” Natasha said, then went to sit on the other side of Sam on the couch with Clint.

“How are you holding up with all this?” Steve asked Bucky when it was just the two of them.

“I’m doing alright. Clint’s letting me go to appointments with him, which has helped me get a feel for what is actually happening and everything. I’m still a little upset that he didn’t tell me, but there’s not much I can do about that now,” he responded, leaning against the kitchen counter. "We've talked about it. We're working on it."

“What is it with you and blondes that like to do stupid shit when you aren’t around?” Steve asked, immediately receiving an elbow in the gut.

“Shut it, Rogers. You don’t get to ask questions like that when you’re one of the blondes that went off and did stupid shit while I wasn’t around.”

“Hey, but in all seriousness, if you ever need someone to talk to; I’m here for you, Buck,” Steve said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I know, and I really appreciate it,” he responded. 

As their conversation came to a close, the doorbell rang and Bucky ran down to get the pizzas and pay the delivery driver. He brought the pizzas back up and set them on the counter in the kitchen. “Clint, cheese, pepperoni or meat lovers?”

“I’ll take a slice of cheese and meat lovers please,” the archer hollered back, and Bucky brought him a plate of pizza.

Everyone else got up off the couch to get themselves a slice while Clint picked out a movie to watch. “What about Talladega Nights?” He asked, trying to get a feel for what everyone wanted to watch. “I haven’t watched it in years and I really don’t think it’s going to be triggering for anyone, on account of how stupidly hilarious it is.”

The last time they got together to watch a movie, Clint picked American Sniper and it hit a little too close to home for multiple people in the room. He wanted to watch it because of the awards it had won, and the good reviews people had given it. He probably should have taken into consideration the plot of the movie. It wasn’t his best mood.

“Is that the one where the guy thinks he’s paralyzed and sticks a knife in his leg?” Sam asked, looking at Clint questioningly as he took a seat in the reclining chair so Bucky could sit next to his boyfriend.

“Yep,” the archer nodded in confirmation. “They also put Sausage Party on Netflix.”

“We are not watching Sausage Party,” Steve spoke up, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Why not, Cap? Scared of a few sexual innuendos?” Natasha smirked, taking a bite of her pizza.

“I’d rather enjoy my condiments than see them having sex with one another, thank you very much,” the taller blond retorted.

“Fine, fine, Talladega Nights it is,” Clint said, clicking over a few spaces before selecting the movie.

Bucky brought Clint over another slice of pizza and sat down next to him when the movie started playing. Thankfully, this movie was a hit amongst his peers, and the archer could actually enjoy the movie without wondering if he may have accidentally set someone off in the process. He finished his pizza and his beer and leaned into his boyfriend’s side while they finished the movie.

When the movie was over, Steve and Bucky went into the kitchen to get the cake while everyone else moved to the table. They lit the candles and placed the cake in front of Clint. When they finished singing to him, he blew out the candles as per tradition.

“Wish for anything good?” Bucky asked, cutting the cake.

“I guess you could say that, yeah,” he smiled. He’d wished for health and good company, one of which he already had.

There were no surprises with this birthday, which Clint was more than thankful for. Sam got him a gift certificate to his favorite pizza place. Steve got him a couple of books he could read while at the hospital. Natasha got him a pair of fuzzy socks that said: “If you can read this, bring me coffee” on the bottoms, and Bucky got him a calendar titled “Natures Dick Pics.”

As far as birthdays go, he rather enjoyed his thirtieth. He just hoped for more birthdays like it. 

xxx

A couple of days after his birthday, it came time for Clint’s second round of outpatient chemo. He knew he couldn’t talk Bucky out of coming, so he didn’t try. He just loaded into a cab with him and they went on their way.

Clint checked into the outpatient center, where the nurse put on his identification band and handed Bucky a sticker to put on.

They sat together in the waiting room and the archer tried not to look distressed, despite the fact that he very much still hated hospitals and he was dreading whatever cocktail they were hooking him up to today. It probably wasn’t all that different from the last, but that had kicked him hard on his ass. Hopefully, the good pain meds (which Bucky no longer hid from him) would help him through it better.

Then his name was called and they were led back to a communal room that had reclining chairs that faced the views of the city, and regular hospital chairs pulled up next to them for the patient’s guests.

“See, it’s not so bad in here. It’s not the hospital room they had me in a couple weeks ago, but even that one had a better view than the one I stayed in for a month,” Clint told Bucky as he pulled his shirt down so the nurse could sanitize the skin above his port. He’d already put numbing cream on back at the house, so they didn’t have to wait the extra fifteen minutes for it to start working.

“You’re still not making me feel any better about any of this,” Bucky commented but gave his hand a comforting squeeze as he watched the nurse access his port. “So is that like, just in muscle? Or how does that work?”

“What I just hooked the catheter up to was the port that lies just beneath the skin. Then there is a catheter attached to it that runs from his port and into the vein just under his clavicle here,” the nurse showed him. “Then that vein leads into his heart and spreads the chemo or other medications through his body.”

“Oh, okay,” The soldier nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. “So you can draw blood and give him medications and everything, right? Why a port instead of just a normal IV?”

“Some chemotherapy destroys the smaller veins in a person’s arm. Plus, even without chemotherapy, repeat use of certain veins in a short amount of time still damages the veins. This way, we aren’t inserting a needle directly into his vein, and the vein that it is connected to is big enough for the chemo not to deteriorate it as easily,” she explained, talking as she drew blood and got Clint hooked up to an IV. “Also, there are far fewer infections with an infusion port, as opposed to a vein or a central line.”

“Cool,” Bucky said, sitting back as he took the information in.

“Yeah,” she smiled, pulling the archer's shirt back up. “Alright, Clint, I’m going to let the Benadryl, Zofran and saline kick in a bit, then we’ll get you started. Just sit back and relax and let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Eva,” the archer responded, reclining the chair back. He scanned the room to see if he knew anybody, his eyes eventually landing on a mom sitting with her young daughter. “See Buck, that’s not fair. Look at how young she is. She can’t be more than like four or five.”

“Yeah,” The soldier nodded in agreement, getting Clint’s blanket out of the bag of stuff they brought.

“I mean, it’s one thing for an adult to go through this, but look at her. She’s tiny. She’s got her whole life ahead of her. She shouldn’t have to be going through this.”

“And you should?” Bucky asked, but not in an accusatory manner.

“I shouldn’t, but I am. I’d much rather go through it than her. She should be out playing in the snow or at preschool, enjoying being a kid. Not pumped full of poison.”

“True,” The soldier shrugged, draping the blanket over his boyfriend. “In my honest opinion, no one should get cancer. I honestly thought someone would have cured it by now.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy. Everyone’s different and every cancer is different. Two people might have the same cancer, but receive a different treatment based on how their body responds to it. Even if they did find a ‘cure’ it’s not guaranteed to work on everyone.”

“I know, it’s just that the future is disappointing sometimes, especially when your boyfriend has cancer and there isn’t much you can do about it,” Bucky said, leaning forward to kiss Clint on the forehead. “How about we watch a movie or something? Or would you rather play on your phone?”

“We still haven’t watched season seven of Game of Thrones,” the archer shrugged, looking back at Bucky. “That wasn’t something I was going to do without you. I pinky promised.”

“Do you really want to watch it in the hospital though? What if we watch it when we get home later? How about we watch something that isn’t going to scar the kid for life?”

“Fair point,” Clint nodded, then went through Netflix to pick out something else to watch. He eventually landed on Friends, figuring the show was idle enough to keep his attention, but if he slept through an episode or two he wasn’t missing too horribly much. “This okay?”

“Yeah, this is great,” Bucky said, taking Clint’s hand in his.

After about an hour, the nurse came by to start chemo. The archer was dozing from the Benadryl and kept himself alert enough to answer all the nurse’s questions.

“Five dollars says I don’t make it another hour before losing my breakfast,” Clint said to Bucky after the nurse left.

“That’s disgusting, I’m not betting on that,” the soldier said, making a face.

“Really? You don’t have faith I can make it over an hour without puking?” The blond cocked a brow at him. When Bucky’s expression stayed the same, he rolled his eyes and shifted back into his optimal ‘watch TV but also sleep’ position in the recliner.  
Clint made it an hour and ten minutes without puking. When it happened, Bucky was there holding the basin and rubbing his back.

“See, you would have won five bucks,” Clint said when he finished, taking the wipe that his boyfriend offered him.

“But at what cost?” He teased, taking the bag from Clint, and passing it along to the nurse. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah, just tired. Nausea comes and goes. I’ll let you know when it comes again,” he told Bucky.

“Okay, do you need anything?”

“I’d very much like to be in bed, but that’s not going to happen until I drain this bag.”

“Yeah, just let me know if you need anything, alright? Did you decide what you want me to order for dinner?”

“Pho, maybe? Anything that’s not spicy,” Clint answered, shoving a breath mint in his mouth.

“We can do that,” Bucky nodded and turned his attention back to his phone.

By the time he finished draining the bag of chemo, Clint had thrown up a couple more times. Bucky handled it as well as he could; handing him wipes, rubbing his back, and making sure he was comfortable.

“Go ahead and leave this on for the next couple of hours,” the nurse said as she put a bandage on the skin over his de-accessed port. She finished up, disposed of everything she needed to, and took off her gloves before handing Bucky a few papers. “Top one is his medication for prednisone, it’s ready for pick-up down in the pharmacy. The second is an information packet on the chemotherapy we gave him today and what to expect within the next week or so, especially with the steroids. The pharmacist will go over the steroids and everything. He should know what to expect, but just in case, I put in some info about it for you.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, handing Clint his jacket. “Is there anything I need to look for in the next few days? I realize that puking is probably normal, but anything else?”

“If he starts running a fever, go ahead and call Doctor Jensen. His number is on the prescription. Anything that you need to look for is going to be in the first packet I handed you. It should be pretty straightforward,” the nurse explained, smiling at them.

“Okay, yeah, sounds good,” the soldier responded, giving Clint’s hand a squeeze. The archer had to hold back a chuckle; he knew that Bucky was trying his hardest to take in all the information that he could. It was cute and sweet, and right at that moment, Clint loved him a little more for it.

“Come on, Buck, everything is in the packets. I promise,” the blond said, pushing himself to his feet. “I have other packets hidden in the apartment too. I just want to get home.”

He leaned into his boyfriend, and the soldier wrapped his metal arm around his waist. “Let’s just pick up my prescription and head out to where Happy is probably waiting for us because I’m guessing Tony didn’t accept no for an answer when he offered yesterday.”

“Happy is waiting for us on the third floor of the parking garage because I told Tony that we would love a ride home,” Bucky said and pecked him on the lips.

“You’re the worst,” the archer said and scrunched his nose.

“You said yourself that—“

“Oh, I know what I said about cab drivers in New York,” Clint cut him off and tugged his hand to pull him towards the hospital pharmacy. “Thanks, Eva, have a great week!”

The car ride home was nothing to complain about, thankfully. Happy was a very safe driver, which meant that Clint wasn’t jostled about and his nausea was kept at bay until he had to hike up to his apartment (he was going to have a serious talk with his landlord about getting the fucking elevator fixed if Bucky didn’t get to him first).

“Want me to carry you up?” Bucky asked, hand on Clint’s lower back when they reached the third floor. The next three floors did look rather daunting, so the archer obliged and let him carry him the rest of the way.

Honestly, he could have just sat on the stairs until the world stopped spinning so he could make it up the rest of the way like he had the first two times he came home. But this time, he wasn’t alone. This time, he had his boyfriend who had super strength and impeccable endurance, who wanted and was there to help him.

He wasn’t so sure how that boyfriend was going to feel through the food cravings and the mood swings that came with the steroids he would be taking for the next week or so, but they agreed that they were going to take it day by day.

Clint took a nap while Bucky took Lucky for a walk and picked up their dinner. He didn’t exactly feel like eating much when he woke up, but he managed to eat enough soup to take his nausea medication and to stomach the steroids. Once those kicked in, he was pretty sure he would have no problem eating anything that was set in front of him anyways.

“Can I get you anything?” Bucky asked as he cleaned up their dinner.

“I don’t think so. It’s really not that bad. I pulled it off as food poisoning last time around,” he said with a yawn. “Fooled you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you sure did,” the brunet responded, unamused.

“I promise I’ll try not to wake you up in the middle of the night with a trip to the hospital this time,” Clint stuck his tongue out.

“That would be much appreciated,” he nodded, putting the leftovers in the fridge before he plopped on the couch next to his boyfriend. Things were a lot less tense and had gone back to normal since their therapy session the week before, and they both seemed to be better off because of it.

The rest of the night was low-key. They cuddled on the couch for a while before the blond finally decided that it was time to turn in. Bucky followed him to bed and kept the bathroom light on in case Clint got sick.

He woke up twice that night, rushing to the bathroom with Bucky close behind. The first time, all his dinner came up and he couldn’t get to sleep for a while after that (it was still pretty early, and Bucky had been up reading through the packets he had been given), so they watched a movie. The second time he woke up, it was mostly dry-heaving while his boyfriend rubbed his back.

He slept late the next morning and woke up in a pool of his own sweat. Bucky was in the kitchen making breakfast and probably heard Clint curse because he was there within seconds, checking his temperature.

“Jesus, is this normal?” He asked, looking at Clint worriedly.

“Yeah,” He nodded, pushing himself out of bed. “I’m going to go shower.”

When he got out of the shower, the sheets were changed and Bucky was sitting on the bed researching night sweats.

“It’s a symptom of leukemia, and it’s a symptom of the steroid that they gave me. It’s prednisone, Buck, look up the side effects. They fucking suck. If it were the leukemia, the doctor would have already called us saying that my blood tests from yesterday didn’t look right,” Clint sat on the bed next to him and kissed his cheek. “If something doesn’t seem right, I will let you know, okay? You don’t need to google every little thing.”

“I know, I just wanted to be sure,” he told him and wrapped an arm around the archer’s waist. “Do you feel up for some breakfast? I made you some waffles, figured it’d be easy on your stomach.”

“Waffles sound great,” the blond nodded and followed him to the kitchen.

The rest of their day was spent lounging around the apartment. Bucky went on a run while Clint took a nap and Natasha came over for a while and watched movies. Steve brought over a lasagna for dinner and Clint’s appetite had returned, so between two super soldiers, Natasha and his steroid appetite the entire thing was eaten with no leftovers to spare.

The following day, Clint was starting to feel suffocated. He was moody and anything and everything that Bucky was doing was making it worse, so he eventually ended up on Natasha’s couch. She talked him down and he eventually brought home pizza for dinner. By this point, Clint was fairly certain that he was going to be about thirty pounds heavier than he was before he started this round of treatment, but the way he saw it was he could probably gain a few extra pounds.

The third day after chemo, Clint woke up feeling exceptionally well rested and a little horny.

Bucky wasn’t in bed, so the archer slipped some sweats on over his boxers, took his morning medication and made his way into the kitchen where his boyfriend was making breakfast. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist from behind and kissed the back of his neck. “Morning,” he hummed, giving him a squeeze.

“Morning sleepy head,” Bucky smiled, stepping aside to pour Clint a cup of coffee. “How’re you feeling today?”

“Really good, actually,” he took a sip of his coffee and set the mug on the counter. The blond put his hands back on the brunet’s hips to pull and peppered the back of his neck with kisses. “Like really, really good, Buck.”

“Good,” the soldier responded, ignoring the moves Clint was trying to make on him. The archer continued anyways, hiking up Bucky’s sleep shirt a bit. His hands worked up and down his sides and around his waist. He pushed his hips against his boyfriend’s ass, making it known that he was hard.

The soldier, on the other hand, dumped frozen fruit into a blender, added protein powder and a bit of milk before turning the blender on, seeming completely uninterested in what his boyfriend was doing or trying to do. He dished their eggs onto plates, then went to the oven to pull out some banana bread. Clint let out an annoyed sigh and looked at Bucky impatiently.

“Really?” He grunted, watching as his boyfriend cut into the bread.

“What?” Bucky asked, looking innocent.

“You’re so full of shit,” Clint more or less scoffed. “Come on. I’ve got morning wood for the first time in weeks and you are making breakfast like it’s nothing.”

“I’m hungry,” he shrugged, though the archer definitely noticed the soldier’s eyes gloss over his crotch as he went back to plating their breakfast.

“Right,” the blond nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he rolled his eyes.  
Bucky shrugged again and poured the smoothie he made into two different glasses. He set everything on the table for them and moved to take a seat.

“Wow. Really?” Clint asked, not moving from where he was leaning against the counter. “You do realize you can’t catch cancer, right? I mean, unless it’s HPV or something, it’s not like an STD where you’ll get it too. Not that you’d actually get an STD with the serum.”

“Clint—“ The soldier started, but the archer cut him off.

“No, Bucky. Am I suddenly not good enough for you? Do you not want to have sex with me because I’m sick? What is it? Doctor Jensen didn’t say we couldn’t have sex. You’re more than welcome to ask him, but I can promise you that sex isn’t off the table. For once, since you got home, I /want/ to have sex.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed, watching Clint. “Since I got home, this is the first time you want to have sex with me? So, all this time you haven’t wanted to have sex? Like the night when I got home and you got me off three times?” He inhaled sharply, raising his voice, “Clint, you’re supposed to tell me when you don’t want it! We’ve talked about this!”

“I want to make you happy!” The blond yelled back. He huffed and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he continued. “It’s not that I don’t like having sex with you because I love having sex with you. I just don’t get why you’ve barely touched me since you found out I was sick. I know my skin isn’t as soft and I don’t have as much muscle. Fuck, I’m not even sure I have muscle left because I don’t have the energy to do anything, let alone go to the gym. I don’t feel sexy in the slightest but Christ, you’re not helping that at all.”

There was a long, awkward pause before Clint finally scoffed and turned on his heels to go back to their bedroom. “Enjoy your fucking breakfast,” he muttered on his way.

“Clint, stop—,” Bucky started, but was interrupted by the slam of their bedroom door. He let out a heavy sigh and finished his breakfast alone.

When he was finished, he left Clint’s food on the table and put the smoothie in the fridge so it wouldn’t sour. He changed into dirty clothes from his gym bag and knocked on the bedroom door. “I’m going for a run. Food is on the table and your smoothie is in the fridge,” he said, pressing his ear to the door. When he didn’t get a response, he wrote a note and slipped it under the door for Clint. He put in his earbuds and put his phone in his pocket before leaving their apartment to try and give Clint the space he thought he needed.

It was too late in the morning for a peaceful run, and he shouldn’t have been surprised when he was stopped by people at traffic lights. He eventually gave up on the idea that a run was going to bring clarity to whatever had happened that morning.

He was mad at himself for how poorly he’d handled the situation. Of course, he wanted to have sex with Clint, he loved having sex with him. He just didn’t want to hurt him, or to be the reason for a trip to the hospital.

The archer didn’t exactly give him a chance to respond, which wasn’t fair but Bucky wasn’t going to hold it against him. He probably should have done something other than pretending that Clint wasn’t trying to pull moves on him. He knew that the outburst had a lot to do with the steroids that he was taking and once all was said and done, they would probably laugh at this argument a few months from now anyway, or so he hoped

He ran over the Brooklyn Bridge and into lower Manhattan before he finally turned around. He thought about taking a long way home, but from Manhattan, everything was a long way home, so he took a different route than he normally did and ended up at Clint’s favorite coffee shop. He got them both coffees and pastries and finished his run back at their apartment. He could hear Lucky rustling around in their bedroom, so he knew that Clint knew he was home.

He didn’t want to push his luck, so he didn’t knock on the door or try to disturb him. He probably hadn’t put his hearing aids back in anyways.

Bucky was pleased to see that he had at least eaten the breakfast that he made him—at least he assumes he ate it. Clint could have fed it to Lucky for all he knew, but neither of them enjoys being gassed out so he hoped he didn’t.

The soldier put the coffees on the counter and wrote Clint another note, sliding it under their bedroom door. He took his coffee, went back to the couch and waited.

Clint came out of their bedroom about five minutes later and went straight for the coffee without saying anything to Bucky.

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re sexy or that I don’t want to have sex with you Clint,” Bucky started, seeing at least one purple hearing aid in. He didn’t move from his spot on the couch, he just looked over at him, hoping to gain his attention. “I love having sex with you, and I love you. I just didn’t want to make you feel like you had to do anything.

“And anyway, you look great, despite everything that you think. Yeah, you’ve lost a little bit of weight, but that doesn’t change anything for me. You could be a thousand pounds or less than a hundred, and I would still want to have sex with you because I love you for you.

“I don’t care if your lips are chapped or if your skin feels dry. I just want you to be okay with having sex. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything because you don’t, Clint. You don’t owe me anything. If you want to have sex, then let’s have sex. If you just want to hang out on the couch and cuddle, then let’s hang out on the couch and cuddle. Hell, if you want to try new things with sex toys or whatever, we can do that, I don’t care. I just want you to be comfortable doing whatever you want to do.

“If I don’t want to do something, then I will sure as hell let you know when I don’t want to do something. I expect the same from you, alright? We can figure out other ways to feel good, too, it doesn’t have to be about sex. I’m sorry I pissed you off this morning. Really. I reacted badly because I didn’t know what to say or do, and I am sorry, Clint. I love you, alright? Cancer isn’t going to change that.”

While Bucky was talking, Clint had picked up his cup of coffee and taken a couple of sips with his back turned to him. He slowly turned around as his boyfriend spoke, feeling like a total idiot for the way he had reacted earlier. He set the cup back down on the counter and rubbed a hand over his face because honestly, he didn’t know what to say to that.

He knew that Bucky was trying his best. He knew he was trying to keep him comfortable and he didn’t want to push him into anything, which Clint respected more than words could express. How was he supposed to respond to that?

“God, why do you have to be so fucking perfect?” Is what finally came out of his mouth. He didn’t say it spitefully, or in any of the tones, he had used that morning. He used it with affection and regret for how he had treated him. “Bucky, I’m sorry.”

“You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for, Clint, really.” The soldier said, getting up from the couch. He walked into the kitchen and cupped Clint’s face between his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” the blond said, and Bucky leaned down to kiss him slowly. Clint’s emotions went haywire. He’d gone from flamingly pissed off to feeling sorry for himself to full of regret and now, now he was overjoyed and he couldn’t quite explain why.

When they pulled away from the kiss, the archer had tears in his eyes and Bucky’s face fell into a frown.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Nothing,” Clint snorted, pressing his face into his boyfriend’s chest. “Your speech, it was just… I’m just… God, I don’t know,” he laughed at himself. “I just love you a lot, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky said with a soft laugh, pulling him into a hug. “We’ll get through this, I promise. We just have got to talk to each other, alright? I’ll call you out on your bullshit if you call me out on mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the calendar Bucky got Clint:   
> https://www.amazon.com/Natures-Dick-Pics-2018-Calendar/dp/B075FCWQX5/ref=sr_1_23?ie=UTF8&qid=1514672068&sr=8-23&keywords=gag+gifts+for+men
> 
> Also, seeing as though classes start this week and I work full time, chapters are going to be posted every other week from here on out. I have so much planned for this story and I want it to be well written and edited. 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated! 
> 
> (Sorry if the secondary note is still beneath this one. I can't figure out how to get rid of it.)


	6. A Whole Pizza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a lot of fluff.

“Clint,” Bucky said, running his fingers through the archer’s hair. “Honey, Happy is almost here. I just got off the phone with Doctor Jensen and he wants you to come in, okay?”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Clint slurred groggily, opening one eye to look up at Bucky. 

“Your temperature is a hundred-and-one, and I don’t make the rules, sweetie,” he told him softly, sitting on the bed next to him. “You don’t even have to change. Just brush your teeth and put your sweatshirt on.”

“Is someone coming over to watch Lucky?” the archer asked and shifted upright with a groan. 

“Yeah, Steve will come by if you need to stay overnight,” he confirmed, running his hand up and down Clint’s back soothingly.

“’Kay,” he said and tiredly rested his face against Bucky’s shoulder. 

 

“How’re you feeling?” the soldier asked, kissing the top of his head. 

“Felt better, felt worse. Right now, I’m just cold, my head hurts and I want to sleep.” Clint responded before pulling away. He got himself out of bed and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

They’d made it through steroid week without too many hiccups. After he had his meltdown, he mellowed out a little bit and tried his best not to bite his boyfriends head off with another argument that was totally unnecessary (some were still unnecessary, like Clint trying to argue that coffee and leftover pizza were a perfectly fine option for breakfast when Bucky tried to get him to eat eggs and toast). They’d even had sex, which killed any tension that either of them had for a little while. 

Now, a few days off steroids, Clint wasn’t feeling too great and had a fever to go with it. 

When he finished brushing his teeth, he slipped his sweatshirt on and tiredly leaned into Bucky who wrapped his arms around him. 

“My head hurts,” he complained as he rested his head against the soldier’s chest. 

“I know, doll,” he tried to comfort. “Lucky’s got food and water, so let’s get going, shall we?”

“Sure,” Clint said and pulled himself away so he could walk down the stairs. When they made it down, Happy was just pulling up and the two climbed into the backseat together. It was rush hour, so it took a good hour and a half to get from their apartment to the hospital, and Clint slept most of the way there. 

Bucky helped him get checked into emergency, and the archer wore a surgical mask as he sat in the waiting room. He was in a bad mood, and being in the emergency room sitting next to people who had the flu or other diseases that could potentially kill him wasn’t making things any better. 

“This is a stupid fucking mask,” he told Bucky, resting his head on his metal shoulder. 

“Well, it’s a stupid fucking mask that’s hopefully going to keep you from getting sick,” he responded, tugging Clint’s hat down a little farther. 

“That’s funny because I’m already sick,” he snorted, and Bucky rolled his eyes in response. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they got a room and the nurse immediately got him hooked up to an IV. She asked him a few questions before leaving the room with a promise that the doctor would be in shortly.

The doctor came in the room around a half an hour later and as far as emergency rooms go, he figured that was a pretty short amount of time to have to wait for someone to come by. There were people who needed immediate attention and he at least got some rest while he waited. 

This doctor was very curt but thorough. He checked all his vitals, and double checked his ears and nose with a frown. “Well, Mr. Barton, I’m going to run a few more tests but it looks like you have a sinus infection and a double ear infection. We’ll get you started on some antibiotics while we wait for the test results to come back, but you guys should be on your way home soon.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, giving Clint’s hand a squeeze while the archer nodded. 

When the doctor left the room, the blond looked at his boyfriend with an annoyed expression and let out a huff, “that’s a pretty lame reason to have to come all the way to the emergency room for.” 

The soldier let out a small chuckle and nodded, kissing Clint’s forehead. “Doctor Jensen said that even a small infection can become a big one if we don’t do anything about it. Better to be safe than sorry.”  
Clint shrugged tiredly. Part of him wanted to start an argument about how stupid everything was, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be productive and Bucky would probably just end up giving him a speech again about how they would get through it. 

So what if they were going to get through it? That didn’t mean it wasn’t stupid or that he didn’t want to be going through it in the first place. The chemo made his body hurt and his brain fuzzy. The fact that Bucky barely let him leave the house except to go to a doctor’s appointment or to Natasha’s, Steve’s or the tower made him stir-crazy. He wanted to go on missions again, but he knew that was out of the question the minute that Bucky found out. Bucky sure as hell wasn’t going to let him go on a mission, and Steve wasn’t either. 

It’s not like he could think properly to keep himself safe, anyways. 

He laid in the hospital bed and kept his mouth shut, turning on the TV so they could watch cooking shows until the test results came back.

When the results finally came back negative to anything that would kill him off within the next week or so (Clint’s words, not the doctor’s), the doctor discharged them. They made a quick stop at the hospital pharmacy to get his antibiotics and eardrops, then met Happy back out front for a much shorter commute back home. 

Bucky hadn’t been on a mission since he found out that the archer was sick. He’d made taking care of Clint his fulltime job, despite the blondes’ reservations about it. They’d had a few arguments on the subject matter, but anything that Clint brought up would often be shut down by the soldier making some comment about how they needed to focus on his health and everything. Clint thought that was bullshit because it was going to be at least two years before he was going to be considered healthy, and he sure as hell wasn’t okay with Bucky evading missions for that long, especially when he had become such a crucial part of their team. They could afford one sniper being out of business, they couldn’t afford two. 

While the two had been living together for a while and were typically on missions together, they had never spent so much time together. Relatively speaking, they had their own lives; Clint sometimes taught archery and held a couple of training sessions when they needed a substitute, and Bucky helped Natasha train spies and Steve with tactical planning. The amount of time spent with one another was getting to the point where it was driving Clint crazy. The soldier still went out on runs and did things without Clint, but without his regular schedule the archer didn’t know what to do with himself and Bucky had certainly taken the mother-hen role to an extreme extent. 

Clint didn’t start feeling better until two or three days after he started taking the antibiotics. He’d gotten to the point where he wasn’t exactly certain what feeling good felt like. He had days where he felt okay and days where he felt like you could probably classify it as feeling good, but he didn’t feel like he felt good anymore.

“Let’s go to the shooting range or something, Buck,” Clint suggested once he started feeling better. 

“I went to the range with Steve this morning while you were sleeping,” Bucky said, looking through some of the paperwork that the hospital had sent them.  
“Oh,” the archer responded with a nod, making his way into the kitchen. He tried to pretend he wasn’t disappointed, he’d spent a good chunk of the morning trying to decide on something to do that wasn’t hospital or home related and that he thought was fun. The range sounded exhausting, but fun nonetheless. “I’ll see if Natasha wants to go, then.”

“She’s been out on a mission since Monday with Sam, Wanda, and Tony. Probably won’t be back until next week,” he put a couple of the papers aside and opened up another piece of mail. From the looks of it, they probably hadn’t gotten the mail in a couple of weeks. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll head to the range at the Tower, then,” Clint replied and poured himself a cup of juice. “Want me to pick something up for din--”

“How’re you going to get to the Tower?” Bucky cut him off, looking up from the paperwork. 

“It’s sunny out, I was thinking of going for a walk. Maybe take the bus most of the way, and walk the last couple of blocks.” He frowned, looking up at Bucky. 

“Clint, it’s below freezing out there. You’re going to get pneumonia or something,” the soldier told him and shook his head.

“What do you want me to do then, Bucky? Do you want me to sit around the house all day? It’s easier that way, isn’t it? Keeping me in a bubble so you don’t have to worry about me getting sick?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Clint, I don’t want to fight today,” the brunet said and scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“I don’t want to fight either. I do, however, want to have a life outside of this stupid apartment.” 

Bucky drew in a deep breath and let it out, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not forcing you to stay in the apartment Clint, I just worry about you is all.” 

Clint put his juice glass in the sink and let out a heavy sigh. “I think you need to go on a mission or something. We’re no good when we spend every minute of every day together. You need to like, let out some testosterone or something. I appreciate that you have my health in mind with everything that you’ve been doing lately, but honey, I need to breathe.”

“I’m not going on a mission Clint, not right now,” Bucky shook his head. 

“Look, I’m not going to spontaneously combust, okay? I’m sure they can find something where you’re only gone a couple of days. If I get sick or something, I’ll call you or have Steve call you, but we can’t live every day like I’m going to get sick, alright? I want to live my life, Bucky. I don’t want to live the rest of it trapped in this apartment because we are worried about me catching something,” Clint wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck from behind him and kissed the side of his neck. He rested his chin on his shoulder and let out a sigh. “I know I should be thankful that you are willing and that you are able to take time off work to take care of me, and I love you for it, but I think you are way too focused on trying to keep me healthy that your forgetting about the things that make me, me.” 

“I know and I’m sorry honey,” the soldier said and rested his cheek against Clint’s. “I’ll work on it and I’ll talk to Steve, alright? Maybe he can set me up with training some of the kids upstate for now. That way I’m not here bugging you all day.”

“Start with that, yeah. I could be your assistant teacher sometimes,” he pulled back and moved to sit in the chair across from Bucky. “But in all seriousness, I want to go shooting today. I’m tired of staring at these walls all day. It makes me want to redecorate, and we both know how awful that would go over.”

Bucky laughed and set down the mail. “I’ll take you shooting, babe.”

The pair eventually made their way to the range at the Tower. It was a lot smaller than the ones at the Avengers Compound upstate, but it was enough to keep the archer's mind busy on something that wasn’t possibly changing the paint color in his room, or what needed to happen to their kitchen to make it more functional.

He missed the way his bow felt in his hands. He hadn’t been away from the range that long, but even in the time span of a week or two, it often felt like he had been away from the range forever. It used to be typical for him to be at the Compound or the Tower every day, practicing or making new arrows or cleaning his gear. It was relaxing to him. 

Now, he didn’t stick to the same schedule that he used to be on. He didn’t have anyone to train or missions to go on that he needed to be prepared for. He was told that he needed to focus on getting better (but that usually led to arguments about treatment and everything because technically he was better, and he was in remission, he just had a year and eight more months of treatment to go through). 

Clint knocked an arrow back and focused on the moving targets in the room. It was much better than going to an actual shooting range in New York City. They tended to keep things regulated, which typically meant that your targets hung from the ceiling and you could move them so they were closer to you or further away. If you wanted to go to a good range in the City, then you were going to have to pay high dollar for it, and Clint didn’t feel like that was necessary. 

He took a deep breath and focused, letting the arrow fly from his fingers and directly into the target. He let out a small huff, looking where the arrow hit. It wasn’t dead-center like he was expecting it to be, so he tried again and it landed right where he wanted it. He let out a sigh of relief; for a split second, he wondered if he had finally lost his knack. He hadn’t… or at least he hoped he hadn’t. 

He knocked another arrow, and another, going through his entire quiver before he finally let up and took a small break. 

Bucky handed him a water bottle from where he was sitting on the bench and smiled at him, “You still got it.”

“Think I lost it or something?” The archer smirked, taking a long guzzle of his water. “Are you going to shoot too? Or are you just going to sit and watch?”

“Do you want me to shoot? I might steal your thunder,” the soldier remarked playfully.

“Oh, fuck off,” Clint grinned, setting his water bottle down. He picked his bow back up and returned to where he was shooting. 

Bucky joined him not long after he started shooting again. They made playful competition out of it for a while before they both got hungry and decided to go grab some food before they headed home.

Xxx

Bucky talked to Steve about starting work again like he told Clint he would. Steve was more than happy to accept the soldier’s terms of coming back to work. The archer was right when he mentioned it was a privilege for him to be able to take time off work to be able to take care of him, and Bucky wasn’t going to take advantage of it.

So, he got back to his somewhat normal life, and it felt like a breath of fresh air for both Bucky and Clint. The archer didn’t mind having time to himself. He went out and did errands, hung out with Natasha, took Lucky for walks, and even started making dinner for both him and Bucky. 

Bucky was surprised when he came home to his first day of work to find that Clint had made them dinner. It wasn’t anything too special, just spaghetti and sauce, but it was a nice deviation from ordering out or microwave meals. 

Clint, though, had a plan to start cooking and doing more things around the house so that he could and would feel accomplished in days where he didn’t leave the house. He looked up a lot of recipes on Pinterest and started making things that he and Bucky usually ordered out, and tailored it to what they did and didn’t like. It was domestic, sure, but it gave Clint something to do and he was enjoying it, so Bucky wasn’t going to complain. 

When the archers next doctor’s appointment rolled around, Bucky had taken the day off work to be with Clint. So long as there was a doctor’s appointment or anything else that had to do with treatment other than the archer's therapy appointments, Bucky was going to be there for them.  
The appointment was going to consist of a spinal tap with chemo, blood draws and whatever tests the doctors needed to run on him. It would be Clint’s first official appointment like this since he finished induction therapy. If all was well, then he would continue to have them every three months. 

To say that Clint was dreading the appointment would be an understatement. It wasn’t just that he was going to have chemo injected directly into his spinal cord, which was going to be painful and not fun in the slightest, but that the doctors were going to be taking a sample of his bone marrow and testing it to see if he was still cancer free. 

Clint was nervous, more than anything. He didn’t want to have any setbacks. He was only a few months in and he was all ready to be finished with everything. He didn’t want to be pumped full of toxins anymore and he didn’t want to have to be at the hospital so often. His stomach still churned a bit every time he walked into the hospital and no amount of treatment was going to change how he felt about hospitals. 

Happy picked them up from their apartment to take them to his appointment again. They checked in and were eventually taken back to a private room where Clint took off his sweater so the nurse could take his vitals. She accessed his port and started him on a couple of different medications that would get him through the day. It wasn’t all that different from his inpatient appointments, other than the fact that he had his own room. It was probably a lot more sterile anyways. 

“This is going to be like what they did in the emergency room, right? Where the doctor stuck a needle in your back?” Bucky asked when the nurse left the room. 

“Something like that, yeah, they stick the initial needle in, and then they take samples of the bone marrow and everything. Then, once that’s done, they slowly inject the methotrexate into my back. They typically put a drug into this thing,” Clint said, gesturing towards his port, “after like twenty-four hours and it flushes the chemo out, since the one their using is so toxic. This time around I probably either get a shot to take home or some pills to help flush it out and counteract it.”

“And you’ve done it before?”

“Yeah, they did it a few times when I was in the hospital the first time. They just don’t want the cancer to cross the blood-brain barrier or whatever it’s called. You can Google it,” the archer told him and gave his hand a squeeze. “On the bright side, this appointment should be a lot shorter than the last.”

“I’m not worried about the length of your appointments, doll,” Bucky smiled and leaned over to give him a small peck on the lips. 

“You want to bet on how long it’s going to take me to lose my lunch this time around?” Clint asked with a devilish grin, making himself comfortable in the small hospital room that only held a bed and a chair for visitors. 

“Why do you have to go and ruin a perfectly good moment like that?” The brunet snorted, shaking his head. 

“I did not ruin any moment. In fact, I wasn’t even aware there was a moment happening. So, you can either be disappointed with me ruining whatever moment you were having, or you can bet me on how long it’s going to take for me to lose my lunch. Your choice.” The blond smirked. 

“I think I’m going to—” Bucky started before Clint interjected. 

“Or! We can also bet on how long it takes for you to get freaked out. Freaked Natasha out. She won’t admit to it, but it did.”

There was a long pause before Bucky opened his mouth to respond. He wasn’t sure if Clint had anything else that he wanted to add, and he was going to give him the chance to say it before he started speaking. When it was clear that the archer was done, Bucky licked his lips and smiled slightly, “I bet you a whole pizza you aren’t going to make it to dinner without puking.” 

“A whole pizza? To dinner? Man, you’re optimistic,” he chortled. “I bet you a whole pizza that I’m not making it out the hospital doors without puking.”

“That’s disgusting,” Bucky told him, shaking his head fondly. 

“I,” the nurse started as he walked in with the kit to do the aspiration, biopsy, and chemo, “think that’s a safe bet. Though, I would very much appreciate it if you puked in a bag or something, and not all over my floor.”

“I never said that I would, Shaun,” Clint told him and shifted on the hospital bed to look at the nurse. He was a nurse that he had during treatment. He was a fairly nice guy, but he certainly wasn’t Susan (whose warm hands and warm touch he was beginning to miss profusely).

“You never said you wouldn’t,” the nurse, Shaun said and smiled, putting on gloves to start the prepping Clint for the procedure. 

“Fair,” Clint said, pulling his shirt off so the area could be sanitized. 

“Do you want me to walk you through this again? Or just get it done and over with?”

“Done and over with would be preferred,” the archer told him and took Bucky’s hand when he offered it. 

For the most part, the procedure was quick and relatively painless for Clint. For Bucky, it looked like he was having sympathy pains and was having a really hard time not showing it on his face. Clint would have laughed, but he didn’t want to somehow mess up his spine with a giant hollow needle sticking out of it. When Shaun finished doing the spinal tap and administering the chemo, he bandaged Clint up and sent them on their way to the pharmacy to pick up more drugs. 

While the archer made it out of the hospital without puking, he didn’t make it more than a few blocks around the corner from the hospital before losing his lunch. Thankfully, they’d been sent home with a couple of puke bags just in case, and Clint managed to spare the leather in Happy’s car.

“You win,” Clint told him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as Happy pulled over and Bucky found some baby wipes stashed in the car. 

“You owe me a whole pizza,” Bucky nodded, helping clean Clint up. 

The archer wasn’t too butthurt about it (at least about the pizza, his spine wasn’t feeling too great), and ordered the Pizza when they were home and ready for dinner. A deal was a deal after all and Clint could’ve cared less about the pizza, being so worked up and worried about having to wait for the results of his spinal tap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all are enjoying this so far! The next chapters are going to pick up a little, and I love to hear your feedback. If you have any questions/ comments, let me know!  
> Thanks so much for reading!


	7. Relapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is late! I had midterms this week so everything got pushed back a little!

"The cancer is back," Doctor Jensen said with a sigh and set Clint's file down on his desk. He paused for a moment and when there was no response from Clint or Bucky, the doctor continued. 

"I don't mean to sound so blunt when I say it, but I'm not sure how to beat around the bush with this one. It's the same markers as before and your blasts are at about twenty percent. We have a couple of different options; the first is going to be another round of induction therapy to see if we can kill it with different types of chemo and or stronger doses than the ones we are using now.

"We also need to discuss a bone marrow transplant again. Just because we haven't found a donor yet, doesn't mean they aren't out there. There are plenty of ways to find a donor, and a good place to start is to hold a donor drive where people can come and get tested. Those aren't our only options either, there are plenty of experimental drugs and trials that you can try, but this, another round of induction therapy with different and possibly stronger combinations of chemotherapy is where I suggest we start."

It was Bucky who spoke first, giving Clint's hand a squeeze. "So, when would we start that?"

"The sooner the better, honestly, it'll give us a chance to gain the upper hand. That's the hope, at least..." 

Bucky and Doctor Jensen continued to exchange words, and it all muddled out in the background while the reality of it all set in. Clint hadn't been feeling bad per say, but he hadn't been feeling great either. It wasn't the same kind of bad as it had been before, and honestly, he thought that most of it had to do with the endless amounts of chemo they'd been giving him. He had some pain in his leg, and his nose had bled a few days prior to his appointment but it hadn't been anything horrible. He just didn't get it. How could you be fine minute and not the next? 

Clint wasn't sure how long he spaced out for, but he started thinking about the things that he wanted to do. He wanted to just have a few normal days before being thrust back in it all again. He wanted to hang out and do all of his favorite things before he was trapped in a hospital room and stuffed full of drugs that were only going to make him miserable. 

"Clint?" Bucky asked. The soldier had moved his full attention on the archer who had slumped down in his chair. "Are you listening?"

"No," the blond said truthfully and looked at the two other men in the room. 

"Doctor Jensen wants you to start induction therapy as soon as possible," Bucky said, and honestly, Clint didn't know how Bucky was keeping it together as well as he was. His voice didn't falter once, and he had a confidence in his tone like relapse wasn't a life-changing event. "What do you think about starting on Monday? That'll give us the weekend and everything."

"No," Clint said and shook his head. 

The soldier waited for him to continue but he didn't, and Bucky gave him a puzzled look, "what do you mean, sweetheart?"

"I mean, no, I don't want to start on Monday. I want off all the drugs I'm taking for at least a week. Maybe taking pain medicine, but that's it. I want to do something that isn't treatment-related," the archer responded, not looking at either of them. 

He already knew that Bucky was going to think it was a bad idea. Bucky was always on top of things. He wanted to get things done and out of the way, but they didn't know if it was going to be as easy as the last induction cycle and they sure as hell didn't know if he was going to be out within a month or not. 

"Clint…" Bucky started with a sigh, but Doctor Jensen cut the soldier off before he could continue. 

"That actually might not be a bad idea. I don't want you going off all your medication but we can cut things down enough that the side effects won't be so bad. Maybe cut out the daily chemo, for now, let your immune system get a chance to amp back up."

Bucky listened closer than Clint did, he was good at making sure he heard all of the information that was being given, even if Clint didn't want to acknowledge it. He'd been doing that for the archer before they were even in a relationship. 

Clint just nodded, adjusting his position in his seat so he was sitting upright. "And if I want to go on a vacation or something before we start all this? I want to be off my medications and be able to leave the house."

"Honey, he said you couldn't be off all of them," Bucky interjected and Clint shot him a look. 

"I know what he said, I'm just saying that I want to be able to leave the house because if he doesn't spell it out you aren't going to let me walk out the door," the archer retorted, trying not to be too snappy.

"A vacation would be okay, yes. I would suggest getting out of the city and going somewhere upstate, or anywhere where the air is going to be cleaner and less congested. There will be less chance of you picking up a virus or anything that's going to push back the start of treatment any further." Doctor Jensen nodded, "I would also suggest that you avoid taking any commercial flights, as so many people crammed into one area isn't exactly ideal."

"Noted," Clint nodded and rubbed his face with the heels of his hands. 

Bucky brought up a couple of other things with the doctor while Clint thought about where he wanted to go. Honestly, he wanted to go to the beach or do something nice, but it was the middle of winter and everywhere they could get to via car was going to be freezing cold and not worth the trip. Tony probably had somewhere they could go and stay. Maybe they could go to the mountains and go to a ski resort and enjoy the snow, or go to Italy and eat more pizza than was physically possible.

What if it was the last time he got to leave the hospital?

When the appointment was over, they headed out to the car and Happy drove them to the tower. They had plans to celebrate with the team after the appointment, and now things were just going to get awkward. 

"Do you want me to tell them? We can just go home, Clint," Bucky tried to comfort Clint. 

"No, Tony probably ordered all kinds of food and everything. I'm hungry and we might as well break the news to them now." Clint said, looking out the window. 

"Whatever you want to do," the soldier said, giving his hand a squeeze. 

The archer shrugged a bit and glanced at Bucky for a moment before reverting his gaze back to the window. 

"It's going to be okay, Clint," he said, putting his hand on his thigh. 

Clint wanted to snap at him. He wanted to tell him to look up the statistics and the outcomes of an adult patient who's relapsed. He wanted to tell him that he needed to be realistic and that there were probably a lot of other things that they were going to have to do in the week or so that they had before they went to the hospital, but he didn't. 

He knew that snapping wasn't going to get them anywhere. He knew that yelling wasn't going to make him feel better, and he knew that bringing up the fact that he was going to have to see a lawyer sooner than later was really going to put a damper on the mood. 

So, he kept quiet and looked out the window to try and keep himself distracted. When they finally arrived at the tower, Clint and Bucky rode the elevator up to the common floor where most of the team was waiting for them. 

When they walked in Steve had an overly cheerful, yet oh-so-Steve look on his face. In the archer's peripheral, he could see Bucky gesturing to the other super soldier. Clint couldn't quite make it out, but he imagined it had to do with Steve cutting the act so he didn't upset him. 

Steve's expression quickly dropped to a less excited one, but he continued smiling at Clint, "How'd the appointment go?"

"How do you think it went?" Clint asked, nodding his head towards Bucky. 

"Not well, then?" The taller blond asked, cocking his head to the side.

"How bad?" Natasha asked from the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

"I don't know if there is a 'how bad,' but from what I understood, it didn't pass the blood-brain barrier, so that's good, I guess," the archer responded, immediately going into the kitchen to pour himself a drink of Tony's best and probably most expensive whiskey. 

"Do you think you could get me a copy of your file?" Bruce asked from the couch, looking over at Clint. "I just want to look it over, see if there is anything I can figure out without having to poke and prod you myself."

"I'm going on strike for the next week and a half, so you'd have to poke and prod me anytime after that," Clint responded, finishing his glass of whiskey in a swallow. 

"Strike?" Steve asked, furrowing his brow. 

"Vacation or something. The doctor says it might be good for him," Bucky responded for Clint and went to sit on the couch next to Bruce. "Where are Tony, Thor, and Sam?"

"Tony is in his lab, I think, Sam is on his way over from the VA, and Thor is running late as usual," Steve responded, pouring himself a glass of what Clint was drinking. 

Clint was appreciative that their conversations went on, as usual, it was a nice ebb and flow that kept his mind off the possible stresses that he was going to endure. 

When Tony finally joined them, Bucky brought up the vacation again and Tony agreed (so long as Pepper was okay with it too) that they could take his jet wherever they wanted to go. 

Clint suggested Italy, so Tony suggested the countryside where there wouldn't be as many people but the pizza and the experience would be just as good. He and Pepper would occasionally vacation there, so he knew all the places to eat, what to do and where to go if they wanted to do something a little more touristy. 

"Is tomorrow too soon to leave?" The archer asked, looking at Bucky and Tony. 

"I have to get the okay from Pepper first, but I think that should be fine. It's not like the two of you are going to have a ton of time there anyway. I'll let you know as soon as I hear back from Pepper." Tony said, giving Clint a pat on the back. 

"Thanks, Tony." 

"Of course, and I'm sure once Pepper hears that you want to go, she will have everything planned out for you guys anyways. You know how she likes to do things," the billionaire said with a wink, then got up to get himself another drink and went to join whatever conversation that Bruce and Steve had gotten into.

"So, Italy, huh?" Bucky asked and kissed Clint on the forehead. 

"I want to eat pizza 'til I puke and drink more wine than my body can handle."

Bucky laughed, "that actually sounds like a lot of fun."

XXX

The next morning, they were off and on their way to Italy. Clint had forgotten how nice Starks private jet was and had no issues at all with the duration of the flight in the lush seats provided for them. Pepper had come through with a highly detailed list of what they were going to do, what they should do, and other fun things to try around the village.

When they landed, there was a car waiting to pick them up and Bucky loaded their things into the trunk. They were driven to a lavishing villa in the snow-dusted Italian countryside that wasn't exactly close to some of the activities that Pepper had planned out, but the villa came equipped with a car and a couple of bikes that they could take around if the weather was okay. 

The villa was beautiful, intertwining both old Tuscan styles and new modern looks in an elegant fashion. It was a lot bigger than Clint or Bucky required, but neither were complaining as they set their bags down in the living room and went to explore the rest of the house. There were a heated outdoor pool and a hot tub that Clint told himself he would be getting in before they went out to explore the town. 

The kitchen looked like it could host massive house parties and held enough alcohol to accommodate the festivities. The master bedroom was probably twice the size of Clint's apartment and had a bathtub bigger than the archer had ever seen before. On their bed was an itinerary from Pepper for the evening. She and Tony were treating them to a dinner at one of the wineries in town. 

"What time is it now?" Clint asked, looking at the reservation and then at Bucky. 

"It's about one, we have time to hang out and relax a little before we go," the soldier told him and kissed the top of his head. 

"I vote we go swimming first. I haven't been swimming for ages and that sounds amazing," he said, taking his shirt off. 

"Whatever you want, doll," he hummed, following Clint's lead and reached for his swimsuit. 

"Sometime this week we should go to the spa, too, and get massages," he said, picking up the list of ideas that Pepper had given him. He listed off a few other things that he wanted to do, then handed the list over to Bucky who glanced it over. 

"I can't see anything on here that I would be opposed to doing. We just have to make sure we dress right for some of these things. It's cold and I don't want you getting pneumonia," he said and opened the sliding glass doors that led out to the pool from their bedroom. 

"Fair enough," Clint responded, then ran and jumped in the pool without a second thought. He let out a laugh when he resurfaced, letting himself float in the water. 

It felt nice to not have to worry about taking his medications at a certain time and to be able to relax and have a good time. He let out a small sigh of relief when Bucky jumped in too, swimming over to his boyfriend. He gave him a peck on the lips and rested their foreheads together. "We are also going to spend plenty of time having sex on this vacation. We probably won't be having it while I'm in the hospital."

"I don't know if we are going to be having _any_ sex while you are in the hospital, Clint. If there are as many monitors as you say there are…" Bucky said with an embarrassed laugh. 

"I'm sure we could convince Susan to turn them off for a bit. She seems like a gal who likes to have fun every once and a while," he winked. 

The archer leaned in to kiss the soldier slowly and pulled away before things started to get heated. He was tired and didn't exactly feel like sex right at that moment, so he didn't want to tease Bucky too much. 

They spent an hour or so in the pool, then Clint took a nap after eating lunch and taking a shower. 

Xxx

The place that Pepper had planned for them for dinner was cute and quaint, settled in the middle of the small town that they were staying on the outskirts of. Clint and Bucky sat across from each other, dressed as nicely as both of them knew how. That involved Clint wearing his purple Henley and jeans and Bucky in a button down and slacks. 

They sat across from each other and tasted the different wines that the server brought them and chose the one that they liked best to have with their dinner. They had the option of a few different four-course meals and Clint picked the one that involved pizza, sticking true to the statement that he wanted to eat as much pizza as he could possibly stomach. Bucky ended up getting a seafood pasta that the archer couldn't properly pronounce. 

"You are more than welcome to tell me to shut up if you don't want to talk about it, but I do want to talk about it at some point," Bucky said, taking a bite of his pasta when it came.

"Okay? Shoot," Clint said, chewing a large bite of pizza.

"Do you want me to continue working while you're going through treatment? Or would you prefer me to take time off?" Bucky asked after he swallowed, taking a sip of the wine. 

Clint thought about it through another bite of pizza and wiped his lips with his napkin before answering, "That's a good question. I think I'd want you there, but not all the time. You've only been working a few days a week anyway, and I like that. It gives me time to myself or to hang out with other people. It's going to basically be the same things every day and it is going to get really boring for you after a while. So, yes, I want you to keep working."

Bucky took another sip of his glass of wine and nodded, "Okay, I'll do that so long as you're doing alright."

"We can discuss that when the time comes. It'll be good to have you there that first couple of days, but I will more than likely be sleeping through them. As long as I have someone there with me, I think I'll be okay," the archer told him, then reached across the table to give his hand a squeeze. "Worse comes to worst, someone can just call Stanley to come play Go Fish with me."

Bucky chuckled slightly at that. He'd met Stanley once when Clint took Bucky to an event with the support group where significant others and families were invited. Bucky thought that the older gentleman was quite funny and was glad that Clint had someone during treatment to make him smile, even if he wished that person had been himself. He knew that he couldn't continue to let that loom over their relationship though. He still held a little resentment towards Clint for not telling him that he was sick, but most of it had passed and he was trying to move on from it and adjust to their new life that involved cancer, cancer treatment, and other cancer families helping Clint get through it. 

They went back to eating in mutual silence, both thoroughly enjoying their meals and what they had ordered. 

"I'm not going to be accepting any missions, I hope you know that. Not until you've checked out of the hospital and given the all clear," Bucky said after the waiter cleared away their plates and set dessert down in front of them.

"I figured that much," the archer said with a shrug as he dug into his tiramisu. He let out an obscene moan at the taste. Coffee, chocolate, cream, and sugar always hit the spot. 

Bucky nearly choked on his bite when Clint moaned, shooting him a look that told him to cut it out. The blond, however, took the opportunity to continue, smirking at his boyfriend while they finished up their dessert.

"People are staring, Clint," Bucky blushed when the archer continued to make the noises. 

"I know, I'm deaf, not blind," he smirked and licked cream off his lips. 

When they were all finished up with their food, the bottle of wine that they had ordered and were paid, they went back to the villa. 

It was Clint who made the first move on Bucky in the car on the way back. He put his hand on the soldier's thigh, then continued to move it higher until he pressed his palm into his crotch. The brunet had a hard time keeping his composure as he drove. He bit his lower lip with a small hiss and pressed the gas pedal a little harder. 

When they were parked, Clint tugged Bucky into the bedroom and they stripped each other down, kissing like they hadn't kissed in years. 

"Bed? Bathtub? Where?" The archer moaned against his lips. 

"Bed tonight, let's keep it romantic and sensual like our evening has been," the soldier smirked and pulled Clint into his lap as he sat on the bed. 

"I like the way you think," he grinned, peppering kisses all over his face and mouth. 

Bucky fumbled through the drawer of the bedside table looking for lube, then eventually got up so he could go and find some that they had packed. Clint helped get himself ready, but ultimately let Bucky take the lead. He was already starting to feel tired and he didn't want to wear himself out before they got to the good stuff.

Bucky rolled them onto their sides and handled Clint carefully. "You tell me if you need to stop, alright?"

"I will," the archer nodded. He twisted his head back to kiss Bucky and the soldier took that as his cue to ease into him. 

Clint was fine for the most part. They'd developed a rhythm soon after Bucky found out that he was sick, and they stuck with it. The brunet worked in long, slow movements like he always did, and the blond met his pace. There were plenty of grunts and groans, and the soldier sucked hickeys into his boyfriend's shoulders where they wouldn't be entirely visible. 

Bucky picked up speed, making sure Clint was okay with each and every movement he made that was different. The blond responded with needy moans and jerked his hips back into Buckys. 

The soldier reached his hand around the archer and made sure his cock was getting the attention it deserved. Clint was thankful he'd gotten it up and it was staying up because there would be times since he started treatment where they went to have sex and the archer would be completely turned on, but he'd be completely flaccid or his dick would be slightly hard and uncomfortable. Today was not one of those days. 

Once they both came, they laid together for a while so they each could catch their breath, Bucky eventually pulled out and rolled away from the archer, getting up to get a washcloth to clean themselves up. 

"Thank you," Clint murmured with a happy hum, sitting up to kiss him soft and sweet on the lips.

"Of course," Bucky hummed and kissed him back. "Do you want to go to sleep? Or do you still want to watch the movie we talked about earlier?"

"Movie," the archer told him. He got out of bed and put a pair of briefs on, then went to sit on the couch with his boyfriend. He felt sated, happy and warm, cuddled up with him. 

It wasn't long before Clint was asleep like that, and Bucky finished out the movie before moving them both back to bed. 

Xxx

The next couple of days Clint started feeling better. He was in less of a fog than he had been before and he didn't feel overwhelmed like he had the first time he went in for induction. 

Italy and their pizza's had proved to be the best kind of therapy that Clint could have asked for. Their trip was full of hours spent in the pool that overlooked the countryside, Clint and Bucky having sex in various places around the villa, and trips to Rome, Naples, and the mountains. It was a lot to have packed into such a short amount of time, but they were both enjoying the car rides, long chats about various subjects, the pizza, and the views. 

Then Clint started feeling worse towards the end of the trip. He was feeling the fatigue that Doctor Jensen said that he would more than likely start to feel. He could tell by the way his joints ached, and how his body just felt tired. 

They only had a couple of days left, though, and Clint was going to try his hardest not to let it affect him or the rest of the trip. 

Bucky, however, could tell that he wasn't feeling so great. While he didn't complain about the aches and pains he was feeling, there was a look on the archer's face that told the soldier something wasn't right. 

"How about we go to the spa today? Get massages and everything?" Bucky asked, looking through his phone for places they could go and get breakfast. "Then we could do that wine tasting that you were talking about and have an early dinner."

"That sounds like fun," the archer nodded, tapping at a restaurant on Bucky's phone. "We should go there, that looks good."

"We can go there for breakfast," the soldier nodded and kissed the top of his head. "Do you want to go now? Or should we register for the wine tasting first?"

"Wine tasting, then we go," Clint told him, then got up to get himself another cup of coffee. He had to pause and hold onto the couch for a moment, trying to steady himself. He knew the symptom well enough and tried to push back the sick feeling he got when he realized how real it was all becoming. He noticed the look on Bucky's face and smiled slightly at him. "M'okay, I just stood up too fast."

"Slow down then," the soldier said, giving his hand a squeeze. 

"I will," he replied, continuing on into the kitchen. 

"If you're too tired, we can just hang out here instead. Sleep is good too, honey," Bucky said from the other room. 

"I know, Buck, but I want to go to breakfast with you, get massages, then go learn about more fine Italian wines with you," he poured himself a cup of coffee, then headed into the bedroom to change. 

When they were ready to go, the pair headed out to breakfast where Clint ordered something he knew Bucky would finish. Like most things, the archer hadn't regained his appetite. Without the help of steroids (which Clint was not taking because he hated those more than any other medication he had to take), most of the meals they had were either finished by Bucky or packed up and taken home. 

"So," Clint started, picking at his food once he had his fill. "I made an appointment to talk with a lawyer on Friday."

"What for?" Bucky asked, cutting into his omelet. 

"About my will and everything. I haven't done that yet and since I don't exactly have a next of kin or whatever it is you need to have your things passed on easily, I need to have a will."

"Oh," the soldier responded after a pause, "okay. Do you want me to go with you? Or is this something you want to do on your own?"

"My own, probably," the archer said, pushing the other half of his eggs benedict towards Bucky. "I mean, Shield had me draw up one like 10 years ago, so it's basically going to be me going through and making changes and everything. I don't imagine it being too hard, there is just a lot that has changed in the past few years. I need to add Lucky and things I want to go to you or Steve or Tasha and things like that. I can't imagine you guys arguing over my things, but still."

"Of course, I understand," Bucky responded, offering Clint a bite of toast with jam on it. 

The archer was glad it didn't turn into an argument, he knew the conversation was going to go one of two ways and he was honestly expecting the soldier to give him guff because he wasn't going to die, so why did he want to rewrite his will? Thankfully, the conversation didn't head that way.

"So, massages, then wine tasting," Clint redirected the conversation, taking a bite of the toast that Bucky offered him. 

"Massages and wine tasting," the soldier nodded and passed Clint his coffee to finish while he finished eating. 

"I expect to get drunk," he told him, taking a swig of the coffee.

"I would expect nothing less," the brunet nodded, pushing the two plates towards the edge of the table so it would be easier for the waitress to grab.

Once the meal was paid for, Bucky drove them an hour and a half to where they were going to be wine tasting. It was a resort like setting so they could go and get massages at the hotel spa, then head over to the vineyard to do their tasting. 

They made their first stop at the spa and got a two-hour couples massage. It was more than relaxing for the archer and all of his muscles felt amazing by the end of the two hours. As they redressed, Clint made a remark about them needing to do that more often and Bucky agreed. 

They made their way out to the vineyard and to the building where the barrels of wine were kept and aged. The grounds were beautiful, the tour was amazing and the wine itself was pretty good considering that the archer wasn't a big wine fan to begin with (he just really wanted to do something that he couldn't do in New York City). 

They returned to the villa to have a lazy evening after a full day out. Clint took a nap, as the day was long and while it wasn't strenuous, it was taxing on the archer's tired body. While he napped, Bucky packed up some of their things. They were leaving the following evening, and he didn't want the added stress of having to pack up the next day affect whatever it was the Clint wanted to do. Plus, they more than likely weren't going to go through all their changes of clothes in that time anyway. 

The two had a lazy last evening in, where Bucky heated up some of the leftovers they had accumulated in their time there, and they sat on the couch and ate their dinner, then consumed a tub of gelato in the hot tub after. It wasn't much, but they both enjoyed the conversations they had and the memories of different missions they'd been on together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with this chapter, not just because it was midterms and because I'm juggling such a busy schedule, but because I'm trying to keep it light but not straying away from the issue at hand. I hope you guys enjoyed it regardless. Your lovely comments are what keep me going!


	8. Consider it on the Radar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day! The chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but I didn't want you guys to have to wait much longer for an update!

“How’re you holding up?” Steve asked Bucky at his apartment in Brooklyn.

“How am I holding up?” He asked, raising a brow, “Me? I’m doing fine. I mean, as fine as I can, I guess. Clint’s talking to a lawyer about what happens to all his shit if or when he dies and I’m here having coffee with you.”

“I thought Clint already had a will and everything?” Steve cocked an eyebrow as he took a sip of his coffee. “Shield, when it was Shield, made sure that everyone had one when they signed up. It was protocol.”

“Yeah, well, he says he needs to update it. I didn’t want to overwhelm him with questions on the matter. We were on vacation,” the brunet shrugged and looked down at his cup of coffee like it was going to save him from any conversation that was going to get him too worked up.

“Fair enough,” the Captain nodded, watching his friend carefully. “Modern medicine is… Bucky, they’ve made some amazing advancements since when we were younger.”

The soldier moved the fingers on his metal arm and looked up at Steve as though to show him that he knew. He knew all too well about the amazing advancements that had been made to help people. He knew that all the diseases that nearly killed Steve when they were younger were almost all curable or manageable with the correct medicine. He knew that had Clint been diagnosed with leukemia in the forties, then he probably wouldn’t have made it this far. 

“You don’t think I know that? Medical procedures, techniques, everything has evolved so much since either one of us left New York and went to the war. You, you are basically a medical miracle, Steve. I know better than anyone that you probably didn’t have too many years in front of you before you got the serum,” the other super-soldier said, and drew in a deep breath. There was so much that he wanted to say, and so many buttons he wanted to push when it came to people talking to him like he didn’t know anything. Hydra actually did a pretty good job of making sure he knew about most of the latest technologies. 

That wasn’t the point of this conversation, though. Steve was trying to comfort him, and Bucky was going to try his hardest not to be an ass.

“I just wish that everyone would stop acting like nothing’s wrong, Steve. The way you guys treat Clint, the way you act around him… It’s like you pretend that he’s not sick. He’s sick Steve, and I don’t know what to do,” Bucky finally said honestly, running his flesh hand through his hair. 

“I,” Steve started, took in a deep breath, then let it out. “I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, Bucky, We all know what he’s like when he gets uncomfortable, and I just don’t want him to shut down or anything like that. I mean, logically, I know he’s sick and that his relapse isn’t the best news… but cancer makes people uncomfortable.”

“I get that cancer makes people uncomfortable, Steve. A lot of things make people uncomfortable,” the soldier sighed, nervously biting his lower lip. “I don’t know what to do and everyone is acting like everything is okay. I don’t think it’s right to him, and honestly, it feels like I’m getting cheated out of a little bit of support, too, because I need someone to talk to about this. Someone who knows Clint. Natasha, I mean, she’s great and everything, but she just wants to know the facts so that she can help Clint. Me? I want to talk to you about it, but the way that you pretend it isn’t happening isn’t exactly a conversation starter, Steve—”

“Hey,” Steve frowned, looking at Bucky. “You know that I am always here for you to talk to. I have never once said that you can’t. I just don’t want Clint to feel uncomfortable around everyone if we are making him talk about it over and over again. I want to give him a sense of… normalcy, Buck. 

“I’ve known Clint longer than you have, and I know that you know him better than I do, but I know the expressions he makes when he’s uncomfortable. When we start talking about him and his cancer, he gets uncomfortable. You tense up, Natasha looks like a blank slate, Tony wants to go to the lab and fix it,” the blonde said with a heavy sigh. There was a long pause as he chose his next words carefully; “I’m trying to keep my team from falling apart.”

“Then stop acting like it isn’t happening! We need a little bit of uncomfortable so he’s okay with talking about it!” Bucky raised his voice, quickly reminded himself that he wasn’t going to act like an asshole, then dropped it back down. “He wouldn’t bring it up, Steve, he wouldn’t talk about it while we were in Italy. He wouldn’t say anything when he hurt or why he hurt or what I could do to make it better. He… everything that doctor Jensen said might start happening is slowly unfolding.”

The soldier swallowed thickly and shook his head. He didn’t come here to yell at Steve or turn their conversation into an argument. He came to talk, have coffee and hang out like they used to do when they weren’t training or on missions. He wanted to talk about Clint and he wanted to talk about the things that were happening because they were hard to talk about with Clint. He knew that; the archer shut down most conversations that had to do with cancer and it was seldom that he brought the topic up. 

“Look,” Bucky sighed, taking a sip of his coffee before he made eye contact with Steve. “I don’t want to argue about this. I just want to be able to talk about it like it’s a part of our normal, everyday life because it is. Clint’s been sick for what, four months now? We can’t just move on like it’s nothing. The more we act like it’s nothing the more it makes it okay for him to act like it’s nothing. This cancer, this is our new normal.”

xxx

“Are you ready to go?” Bucky asked, walking into their bedroom. “We need to head out soon if you want to stop at the coffee shop on the way. Doc wants you there to check in before noon.”

“I don’t want to go,” the archer said with a childish whine. 

“I know you don’t, but your bag is already packed, your head is already shaved, Lucky is with Natasha and we basically had pizza for every meal the last two weeks. Let’s get going now, or you’re going to miss out on coffee before we get to the hospital,” Bucky said, picking up the archer’s bag off the ground. “Come on, honey.”

Clint peeled himself off the bed and obliged, making his way into the kitchen to grab a small snack. He put on his jacket, his hat, and his shoes and leaned over to kiss Bucky when he was ready to go.

“That sex we had was pretty great this morning,” the archer told him, and let his nose scrunch into a smile that, in turn, made Bucky smile. 

“I know, but there is no way in hell that I am asking Susan to fuck you in the hospital, so you better tell your cells that they need to like…get back to normal quickly, okay?” The soldier said with a laugh, trying to keep the mood light. 

“If I could tell my cells to do anything, it would be to fuck off and not be reproducing the way they are,” the archer told him, grabbing his warmer coat off the coat rack by the door. He slipped it on over his jacket and looked around his small apartment with a sigh.

He decided right then and there that this wasn’t going to be the last time he was there. He was coming back. He was going to be checked out of the hospital and return to his shitty apartment in Bed-Stuy and he was going to play with his dog in the park around the corner. He was going to have real pizza again, and this wasn’t going to be it for him.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, then looked at Bucky and nodded. “Alright, let’s head out.”

Instead of walking to the coffee shop like Clint had done the first time around, Happy drove them. It was a short drive, with a little bit of traffic, but nothing compared to the traffic that they were going to hit while they made it through Manhattan and basically to the other side of town. The pair walked into the coffee shop together, and instead of sitting outside they sat down in the small café. Clint took in his last few moments of freedom by drinking a large Americano and eating a muffin.

He couldn’t help but think about how different this time was going to be. First off, his chances were worse. There was a greater chance that he wasn’t going to get better, and he was just going to get progressively worse until he died. He knew that. He also knew that this time around he was going to have people there who knew him, who cared about him, and they were going to be his support system. 

Sure, he was going to have to put up with Bucky nagging him to do everything that the doctors wanted him to do, even if he was totally and completely exhausted. Steve would come with his sad expressions and pep-talks that he was going to be forced to listen to. Natasha would tell him to shut up when he was being unreasonable, and Tony and Bruce were going to find different treatment options that Clint wasn’t sure that he wanted to try… but they would all be there for him.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“Me? Okay is a relative term, but right now? Yeah… yeah, I’m okay. Ask me again in a couple of hours and I probably won’t be feeling too great, but I can manage this,” he told the soldier and gestured out to the café. “Just thinking is all.”

“Don’t think too hard, you might pull a muscle,” he winked, then leaned over to kiss Clint’s cheek.

They sat like that for a little while longer, before Bucky finally shifted and put his hand on the archer’s lower back. “Let’s get going, hmm? The sooner we get there, the sooner we can check out, right?”

“I’m not quite sure that’s how it works, but sure,” Clint snorted and shook his head, but pushed himself to his feet anyway. 

With that, they were on their way to the hospital. They had to sit through traffic on their way across town, and Clint kept quiet as he looked out the window, taking in all of the stupid cites of New York in. They didn’t pass all of the big landmarks because Happy took the backroads, but Clint got to see some of his favorite spots.

When they arrived at the hospital, Clint got out of the car with a grumble. No amount of visits was going to make his hatred of hospitals go away. He held Bucky’s hand as they made their way to check in, and from there, they were guided back to the acute ward where Clint would be spending at least another month.

A new nurse, she looked young and fresh out of school, helped them get settled. She wrote out his schedule on the whiteboard just like his first nurse did. She had him sign a couple of pieces of paperwork and talked him through accessing his port like he hadn’t had it done multiple times already.

She left the room for a few minutes, then came back with the supplies that she needed to do his port access. She wasn’t confident in what she was doing, Clint could tell she was new so he decided that he was going to have some fun with her and mess around a little bit.

When she went to put the numbing cream on the skin covering his port, he jerked backward with a fake gasp like it hurt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, was that too rough? I’m sorry,” She apologized, then visibly relaxed when Bucky hit Clint’s shoulder.

“Don’t mess with her, Barton,” the soldier scolded with a chuckle.

“Excuse me?” She asked looking between the two of them confused.

“It’s tender, but it doesn’t hurt,” the archer shrugged with a smirk. “I’m just messing with you, sweetheart, go ahead. You aren’t going to break me.”

The nurse continued, more tentative than before. Clint jerked back again, but she seemed to catch on to what he was doing and continued anyway.

“You’re going to get yourself kicked out of here if you’re not careful, Clint,” Bucky laughed when the nurse left the room, giving his boyfriend a disapproving head shake.

“I gotta have fun somehow, right?” 

The nurse came back about twenty minutes later and went through everything with Clint again.

“State your name and date of birth,” she prompted him like the nurses had to do before they started him on any kind of medicine.

“James Buchanan Barnes, March tenth, nineteen-seventeen,” he told her with a snicker.

“You’re pissing her off, Clint,” Bucky said after seeing the look of annoyance quickly come and go on the nurses face as she tried to keep it together.

“Fine, fine,” the archer sighed like they were both killing any and all fun that he was going to be having for the rest of the nurse’s shift. “Clinton Francis Barton, January seventh, nineteen-eighty-eight. Now, load me up with saline and Benadryl so we can get the puke fest on the road.” 

For the most part, the process was like all of the chemotherapy sessions that he’d had. They loaded him up with a couple of medications, then started him on the high doses of chemo that Doctor Jensen had prescribed. It was a constant cycle of a nap, puke, get cleaned up, get filled with another type of medication and repeat.

Bucky had brought a few of the books that Steve suggested he read and spent most of the day going through the first book in the Harry Potter series. When he wasn’t reading, he was helping Clint, watching TV with him, and trying his hardest to keep himself from worrying. 

This was only the first day, though, and it was already painful to watch as the archer puked and ached in ways that Bucky hadn’t seen with his normal chemo cycles.

The next couple days included a visit from Natasha (Clint was being picky about visitors and thus far everyone had been respecting that), stomach pain, headaches, and Clint slowly being stripped away of what made him Clint. All Bucky could do was sit by him, hold his hand, and hope that it would all be over soon. 

“Bucky?” Clint had asked, pumped full of morphine, in the middle of the night a few nights into their stay.

“Bucky,” He said again, voice a little louder. The soldier stirred in his sleep, slowly waking up, so Clint tried one more time, “Bucky!”

“Yeah? Yeah, Clint?” Bucky quickly pushed himself out of the cot he was sleeping in to move next to Clint. “You doing okay, sweetheart? Need more pain medicine?”

“No,” the archer said and smiled. It was a goofy, lopsided smile, one Bucky hadn’t seen in a while. He couldn’t help but smile at his boyfriend and lean down to kiss his forehead.

“What’s up, then, sweetheart?”

“Have you ever thought about like… being more than boyfriends?”

“Clint, it’s… god, honey, it’s three in the morning.”

“No, Bucky,” the archer said, reaching for his hand. “I want to know. Have you ever thought about being more than boyfriends?”

The soldier let him take his hand and gave it a small squeeze. He moved to sit on the bed because they were obviously going to be having this conversation whether Bucky wanted to or not. He adjusted Clint’s hat and thought about the question for a moment before responding, “how do you mean, Clint?”

“I mean, like, having a life together?”

“I would say that we already have a life together, so yeah, I guess I have thought about being more than boyfriends,” Bucky nodded, smiling at the drugged up tone of his voice. He hated that he had to be pumped full of morphine just to try and stay comfortable, but he also enjoyed the conversations they were having whenever he was awake. 

“No, Bucky. Have you ever thought about getting married?”

“Are you proposing to me? You wanna get married?” His smile broke into a grin and he kissed his forehead.

“I ain’t proposing. I’m just wondering if you’ve ever thought about getting married. We’ve never talked about it… and you know… no time like the present.”

The soldier laughed softly, and carefully shifted so he was lying in bed with him. “I’ve thought about getting married, sure, doll. I love you. You’ve just made it very clear that marriage wasn’t on your radar.”

“Consider it on the radar, Buckeroo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed it! Comments/ feedback are always appreciated, and if you have suggestions or things you want to see happen in the next chapters, let me know! 
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr at http://ineedapuppyandsomevodka.tumblr.com/
> 
> If you want updates as to how far out I am on posting a chapter, I'm on instagram as @hawkeye_official and occasionally post updates if it's going to be late or not and always post updates when I post a chapter. 
> 
> Have a great week!


	9. Do you believe in God?

“I’m being serious right now, Bucky, you need to go to work,” Clint frowned, looking at his boyfriend. “I am fine, and you are driving me insane.” 

“You’re not fine, Clint you have mucositis,” Bucky replied, doing a walk around the hospital with Clint to get him out of bed. He didn’t have much scheduled that day other than a therapy appointment later, so Bucky figured it would probably do Clint good to get him out of his room. 

Unfortunately, Clint was in one of his piss-poor moods that seemed to stick around with the number of drugs that he was given between chemotherapy, steroids, drug-induced diabetes medication, and now copious amounts of different pain medicine to deal with sores in his mouth that the doctors labeled as mucositis. 

The amount of time that they had spent in the hospital was beginning to remind him of Steve and how sickly he was when they were younger. There were things about hospitals that Bucky was sure were never going to change; the white, stale, bleached hallways and rooms that looked identical to one another. While technologies would come and go, there was something about the sterility of a hospital that seemed to be timeless; even if most of the population hated it.

“I also have cancer, which will kill me way before a couple of canker sores will, Buck,” he responded, fixing the way his favorite purple hat sat on his head.

“Clint—“ the soldier started but was quickly interrupted. 

“Bucky,” the archer mimicked in the same tone as he went to sit by one of the chairs by the elevator. “I’m being serious. I told you I needed you there for the first couple of days, then I wanted you to go back to work and try to make things as normal as possible. You, staying here constantly isn’t going back to normal. You need to work, get exercise and all of that fun stuff. I need a break from you and your constant puking of sunshine and happiness.” 

Bucky sat down next to him, his expression flattening. “It’s better than whatever the hell you’ve been puking up.” 

“Hospital food and endless amounts of poison,” the archer quickly quipped back, pointing to his IV pole.

“That’s fair,” the soldier shrugged his shoulders and looked at his boyfriend. He thought back to the conversation they had the night before, about Clint wanting to get married, and wondered if Clint was even lucid during the conversation or if it was all just a dream. He couldn’t help but smile at the archer, trying to bite it back while he looked at him lovingly.

“For fuck's sake, there you go again,” Clint gestured to Bucky’s face. “I’m yelling at you about going back to work, and you’re smiling like an idiot like I gave you a damn puppy or something.” 

“I don’t want a puppy,” Bucky laughed and shook his head, reaching for Clint’s hand. They sat there in silence for a few moments, Clint looking around at different people as they passed through the holiday and Bucky’s attention focused solely on the archer while he thought about it. He tossed back and forth a couple of ideas in his head before finally coming to a conclusion. “I’ll go back to work, alright? But—”

“Of course there’s a but—” Clint interjected, and the soldier ignored it. 

“But,” he emphasized, “someone is going to be here with you—”

“Bucky, I don’t want to have to deal with people right now,” the archer rolled his eyes at the soldier’s demand. 

“It doesn’t have to be for my whole work day, you just need to socialize,” Bucky reasoned, standing up and tugging Clint up with him. “Now, get moving, Sarah is on soon and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to give her a hard time.” 

Sarah was the new nurse that helped Clint get settled on his first day at the hospital. She had caught onto his antics and knew that he was messing with her, but unlike Susan, she played along with whatever he threw at her. The archer seemed to enjoy it, and Bucky wasn’t going to ruin anything that brought him amusement, especially when he was confined to the hospital.

So, they made their way back to his room and Clint climbed back in bed. He stared at Bucky for a few moments, turned the TV on, and waited for Sarah to get on shift.

 

xxx

 

“Steve, do you believe in God?” Clint asked, looking at the first Avenger who was reading a book in his room while Bucky was at work. It had been nearly a week since he and his boyfriend had their discussion about the soldier going back to work, and thus far Steve was the only one who had come to visit him since Natasha was on a mission with a few of the Avengers, and the others were at the Compound with Bucky.

Steve marked his page and put the book on the table next to Clint’s bed, and cocked his head to the side.

“Do I believe in God?” Steve pondered the question and let out a soft sigh. “I believe there is a God, yeah. Why do you ask?” 

“I’m… I’m just curious is all. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’m dying or—”

“Clint, you’re not dying,” the taller blond told him with a shake of his head.

“You can say that I’m not going to die all you want, but it’s not going to change the fact that the odds are basically against me at this point,” the archer frowned and gave Steve a displeased look. “Recurrence in adult A.L.L. isn’t like getting the flu twice in one year.”

“Clint, just because the odds are against you does not mean that you are going to die,” the Captain said sternly. “Doctor Jensen said that your leukemic cells are going down like they are supposed to be now. Albeit, it’s happening slower than they would like to see, but it’s still happening, and that’s great.”

“We can argue this all you want, but you are avoiding my question. Do you believe in God?” Clint asked, looking at his friend.

“I believe there is a God, Clint. We can get into the politics of it all if you want to hash it out, but yes, despite knowing ‘Thor: The God of Thunder,’ I still believe that there is a God and that there is a place that we go to after we die called Heaven,” Steve said, leaning forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees and his chin cradled in his hands.

Clint stretched out a bit and nodded, scratching at the dressing that covered his port. “What makes you believe there is a God? I mean, isn’t God supposed to look out for people and everything? He hasn’t looked out for me a day in my life. First my parents, then my parents dying, being tossed around to different foster homes, the circus, now this. Cancer. Twice.”

Captain America drew in a deep breath and let it out, looking at his friend who had become visibly thinner in the past couple of weeks. He knew it was the chemotherapy doing its job, but to watch a friend go from seemingly healthy to not in the span of a couple of weeks was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

“Clint, there is a lot more to it than just that. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it,” he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s faith. You believe in something even if you don’t know if it’s real or not. Sometimes there are other forces that are out of our control that we can’t do anything about, some people believe that’s the devil doing his dirty work. Back then, when I was younger, it was a lot easier to believe in God because… well, because the majority of the people did. Now, it seems like the only people who believe in God are the worst parts of Christianity. They make up these lies about who God is and the standards he holds, and they judge people on things they have no right to judge people on.

“I’m probably not the best person to be talking to about this, and I’d be happy to take you to church if you want to talk to a pastor or a priest about this or even recommend some podcasts. I just don’t want you to believe everything you see on the news about Christianity because what they portray isn’t always the case.” 

“Steve, I don’t want to die. After all the horrible things that I have done in my life, I’m probably not going anywhere good,” the archer said, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“Clint…” Steve said softly, looking at his friend. “I’ll get in contact with someone for you alright? They can tell you all about God and everything else you want to know, alright? But if there is anything that I know; we aren’t going to let you go, not like this. Plus, you may have done a lot of shitty things in the past, but you've done plenty of great things ever since I met you. Who you were back then, isn't who you are right now. Alright?”

Steve shifted closer to his friend and put his hand on his knee as his attempt to comfort him.

“Alright,” Clint repeated with a nod, not wanting to continue the conversation. He knew they could probably argue for hours about this, but Clint wasn't in the mood to lose a fight with Steve. “Will you get a nurse? I’m really uncomfortable right now.”

“Of course,” Steve nodded, and got up to get his nurse.

 

Xxx 

_“Over the past couple of weeks, we have been receiving reports of Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and various other members of the Avengers leaving the hospital. Last night, we received a picture from a source on Facebook, that shows the Winter Soldier with Clint Barton, or more commonly known as Hawkeye, who appears to be going through a cancer-related treatment. Rumor has it that this is the second time that the archer has been checked into the hospital since early November, leading us to question the status of Hawkeye’s health. At this time we have received no word from Barton, family members, or any of the Avengers. We will keep you updated as the story progresses and all of us here at the news station hope for good health and a speedy recovery. In other news…”_

Clint turned off the television in his bedroom and looked at Bucky one evening when they were eating dinner together in the hospital room. “Great. This is just fucking great,” He said, pushing his plate away.

The picture was the two of them sitting in one of their usual spots on their loop around the hospital. By the looks of it, it had been taken a few days prior when Clint’s mucositis made his lips more swollen than usual, and Bucky in uniform from getting off shift one day and coming straight to the hospital instead of running home for a change of clothes. The archer looked exhausted in the picture, leading him to believe they’d probably taken it right after Clint sat down and needed to take a breather. It had been a bad day that day; he was in a lot of pain and he sure as hell looked a lot worse than he usually did. 

“Honey, we weren’t going to be able to keep it a secret anyway,” the soldier said softly and looked at Clint. 

“I know we weren’t, but I at least wanted to be out of the hospital before everyone found out. Now you guys are going to be bombarded with reporters every time you try and come to or leave the hospital. It’s a pain in the ass, Bucky,” He said, taking his hat off and rubbing his bald head. 

“Let us worry about that, okay?” He told him and squeezed his leg. “Now come on, eat. Pretend it’s pizza, I don’t care, but you need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said and shook his head. “And anyway, I couldn’t pretend it was pizza if I wanted to. This tastes nothing like pizza. It tastes disgusting.”

“Fair enough, but I still need you to eat it, alright?”

“Fine, but you aren’t distracting me from the fact that I have cancer is all over the news. Did you see the picture they have of me? That’s an awful fucking picture. I’m pissed. I look like shit. Do I always look like shit?” He asked, scrunching his nose as he picked at the roll on his plate.

Clint looked sicker than like shit. He had dark circles under his eyes that seemed to stay no matter how much sleep he got. His hair was kind of starting to grow back, but it was more like fussy patches than full-on growth like he’d achieved this far into treatment the first time around. He hadn’t had much of an appetite, and he’d lost a good fifteen pounds since the beginning of his current induction cycle.

When Bucky didn’t answer, the archer threw the roll at him. “Fuck you.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to answer!” Bucky whined, looking at Clint.

“Don’t answer. I don’t want to know,” He said and picked apart the meat on his plate.

The archer spent the rest of the evening in his pissed off mood. He hadn’t wanted his cancer to become a big thing and it had become just that. When they eventually turned the TV on, almost every news channel and gossip source were covering it, and he just couldn’t seem to escape it.

To make matters worse, he was suffering a pretty gnarly ear infection that had left him with a high fever, headaches, and an overall discomfort.

If it hadn’t been for the ear infection and the news of Clint being sick getting out to the public, Bucky would have considered it a pretty good week. Thankfully the mucositis was a lot better than it had been a week prior, and most of the sores that were in his mouth and throat were gone. The archer’s leukemic cells had pretty much been eradicated, and overall blood count numbers had started going up, which is what they all wanted to see happen. Granted Clint’s mood hadn’t been the best through it all, but they were making due with everything and trying to make the most of it.

Later that evening there was a knock at the door. Bucky called whoever it was in, pushed himself out of bed with Clint and went to talk to the nurse when she gestured for him. Clint frowned, but didn’t think much of it, and turned on his side to try and get some rest.

A few minutes later, Bucky came back in the room and put his hand on the small of Clint’s back.

“Barney’s here,” he told him softly, looking at the archer.

“Barney?” Clint asked and furrowed his brow. “Is it actually Barney or a reporter who says he’s Barney?”

“It’s actually Barney, honey, I went to see for myself. Do you want me to let him in, or should I tell him to fuck off?”

Clint turned to look at Bucky and sat up, adjusting the pillows behind him. “Let him in, but if he’s a dick, I give you full permission to kick his ass.” 

“Deal,” Bucky said, kissed his forehead, fixed his hat, then went to get his brother.

Clint twiddled his fingers nervously as he waited for his boyfriend to get his older brother from the waiting area whom he hadn’t seen in years. The last time he’d seen him, they hadn’t exactly left on the best terms. He was still pretty worked up about the news reports and everything that he wasn’t exactly excited to see Barney but he didn’t know how to describe how he was feeling about the fact that his brother had decided to show up again after all this time.

“Hey, Clint,” Barney said, awkwardly stepping into the room. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, no shit,” the archer said with a chuckle and looked at his brother.

There was a long, awkward pause. Barney took another step into the room and looked over all of the medical equipment, from the monitors in the room to the IV pole, even looking over the bed that Clint was laying in.

“I saw the report on the news and everything…” He supplied for his reasoning for showing up unannounced at the hospital. 

“Sucks, right?” Clint chuffed with a small smile, trying to keep his demeanor as open and as friendly as possible.

He and Barney hadn’t exactly had the best relationship growing up. Between his abusive parents, abusive foster parents, and the equally abusive members of the circus, there wasn’t anything about their relationship that was normal. Barney had always looked out for Clint, sure, and made sure that things never got too out of hand if he could stop it, but there was also not a lot that he had done to prevent some of the things that happened as they got older.

Clint was pissed when Barney joined the service and left him to defend for himself, and the resentment from that was the reason for a lot of the tension that the brothers held for one another whenever Barney got to come see him. Then when Clint was recruited for S.H.I.E.L.D., the two rarely talked.

“I mean, yeah,” Barney answered and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you guys want me to give you a few minutes?” Bucky asked, standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, get us some coffees from the cafeteria, maybe?” Clint asked, looking past Barney at Bucky.

Bucky nodded and silently left the room, leaving both the Barton’s to chat.

“So, cancer?” Barney asked, taking a step closer to the hospital bed to sit down in the chair next to it.

“Yeah, leukemia,” the younger Barton nodded and adjusted his hat. His hat had basically become his nervous tick. He hated seeing his own bald head, or the poor attempts at hair growth that resided on his cranium. So, he tried to make sure that his hat stayed on and stayed on correctly whenever in times where he felt uncomfortable. 

“What are the doctors sayin’? Are you going to be okay?”

“I mean, I’m not dead yet, so I guess that’s a sign right?” Clint asked with a snort. “I’m alright as far as treatment goes right now. Things are looking okay, I guess. It changes day-to-day.”

 

“Gotcha,” Barney nodded, clasping his hands together while he looked over his brother. There was another long, awkward silence before Barney finally spoke,“Why didn’t you call me, Clint?"

“I didn’t think you would care, honestly.” 

“Oh Clint,” the older Barton said, his voice cracking. “Why wouldn’t I care?” 

“Barney, we haven’t talked in what, like ten years?”

“I’m your brother,” he said calmly with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry if it didn’t seem like I was there for you in the past, but I would’ve liked to have found out from you rather than from the news that my little brother has cancer.” 

“I’ve been in near death situations before, what makes this one any different, Barney?”

“Everything about it, Clint. Literally everything.”

“How is it different, Barney? There have been plenty of reports of me being in the hospital on the news and everything and not once did you show up for those.”

“That’s because you were in the hospital recovering, Clint. Not in the hospital with cancer.”

“That’s fair,” the archer said with a slight shrug, unsure of what else to say.

“I know we did a lot of stupid shit growing up and I know that you seem to recover from just about any injury, no matter how stupid you were getting them—”

“Hey, you were the reason I ended up in the hospital a few times.”

“Again, no matter how stupid you were getting them,” Barney continued, shaking his head in slight annoyance. “But this, Clint. I want to be here to help you through this. What can I do to help?”

“Trying to make up for what a shit brother you were growing up?”

“Partly that, and partly because you’re the only family I’ve got left,” he sighed, looking at his brother and rubbed his face. He looked nearly as tired as Clint looked, and for that Clint took a little pity on him. “So what is it? What can I do?”

“How far does this ‘helping’ stretch?” The archer raised an eyebrow.

“I’d do anything, Clint. Whatever you need.”

“Get tested. I need a bone marrow transplant pretty badly right now, and if you’re a viable donor, then maybe I can get out of this retched hospital sometime in the near future." 

“Yeah, yeah of course. Where do I go to do that?” Barney asked, standing up like he was ready to do it right then and there.

“Ask one of the nurses? I don’t know. I’m just a patient here, I don’t run the place,” he responded with a playful smirk.

“That’s fair, do you want me to go right now?”

“If you want to, though, in all honesty, I don’t think that the lab is open right now.” he shrugged, smiling at the awkwardness between him and his brother.

“Oh, okay,” Barney nodded, sitting back down. “So, you and Bucky Barnes, huh? He seems like a… neat guy.”

“Yeah, he’s a lot different than what they show on the news and everything. He’s got quite the soft side, believe it or not.” 

“I’d believe it,” Barney snorted. 

It wasn’t long before Bucky came back with the coffees for them, and by then the two brothers were filling each other in on their lives since they left the circus. Barney was engaged and doing well for himself, Clint was soon to be engaged, but didn’t know it yet (though that went unspoken, as Bucky didn’t want to ruin the surprise). Barney had finished his service in the Army and already had a job lined up with the F.B.I. which Clint thought was great. While they had both started out with pretty full and unnecessary juvenile records, they had both somehow gotten out of the vicious circle and had made a life for themselves. Clint made a few unnecessary jokes about how yes, he’d made a pretty good life for himself, but that life was probably ending soon… it wasn’t received well by Barney or Bucky and resulted in a small scolding.

 

It wasn’t long before a nurse came into kick Barney out, letting him know that visiting hours were over and he could come back again the next morning if he really wanted to.

So, goodbyes were said, along with a couple see-you-soon’s, and Barney went home to his fiancé while Clint cuddled up with his to try and get some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this was so late! It's been a crazy couple of weeks with finals coming up and professors overloading us with assignments. I hope it was worth the wait!! All of your comments keep me going and I so appreciate your feedback on this story. 
> 
> If you have questions, suggestions, or you just want to talk, come find me on tumblr at http://ineedapuppyandsomevodka.tumblr.com/, or on instagram at @hawkeye_official. I am much more responsive on there than I am on archive of our own (which I only check when I post chapters unless I'm reading other peoples work! 
> 
> Thanks again for sticking around! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	10. A letter from Clint

FACEBOOK: Clint Barton

Hi, everyone,

As some/all/most of you may have heard, I’m sick. A few months ago I was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia, which is a blood cancer that doesn’t have the best outlook for adults who are diagnosed with it. 

I know it’s been a while since I’ve been on here, and it’s been a while since I’ve talked with anyone, and for that, I apologize. However, it has taken me a while to come to terms with my diagnosis, and I was hardly comfortable talking to my own boyfriend about it for a while. Now that it’s out in the news and everything, I feel that it is my responsibility to address everyone publicly, and on my terms without having to do an interview, especially considering the shape I’m in right now. 

So, to answer some of your questions; 

Yes, I have cancer. 

No, I’m not doing great, but I’m taking things day-by-day and have an incredible support system. 

Yes, I was diagnosed with cancer initially in October, went into remission and am now facing a recurrence. 

No, the recurrence does not mean imminent death.

Yes, I am undergoing chemotherapy and targeted therapy treatments. 

No, I don’t want to hear about the essential oils or whatever other trends there are out there that are going to “cure” my cancer. I believe that they might help with my symptoms but I’m going to trust my team of doctors to tell me. 

Yes, we have discussed trials and will be pursuing one after I finish this induction therapy round. 

No, I don’t want to do any interviews or talk with people right now, please respect my privacy. 

No, my friends will not be answering your questions either, please respect their privacy. 

No, there isn’t anything you can do for me at this time. However, if you are feeling really generous, please donate blood and get tested for a bone marrow transplant (it’s just a cotton swab). I might not be a match with you, but someone else might and they probably need a transplant too. 

I do believe that cancer is something that needs to be discussed more; it can happen to anyone. There are kids here who have been fighting longer and who have been fighting harder than I have ever fought in my life. I have learned a lot in my time as a patient and I want to thank those who have supported me every step of the way, my doctors, my friends, and my boyfriend who has more patience than I could ever imagine. This is not a road I ever expected to be going down, this road has a lot of twists, turns, and potholes that have thrown me left and right, left me angry, sad, and incredibly grateful for the people around me. 

As for now, I please ask that you respect me, my friends and our privacy. When I am ready to set up an interview to discuss this, I will.  
Thanks for your understanding,  
Clint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I want to apologize for not posting anything recently. It's been a crazy month full of work, school and being sick. I know this wasn't a long chapter (in the slightest) but I wanted to post SOMETHING so you didn't feel like I was forgetting about the story. I haven't!!!! and I have bits and pieces written out that I want to elaborate on and connect in ways that it makes sense in ways that it doesn't now. With that being said, I am taking 18 credits this quarter and I'm still working full time, so chapters will more than likely not be posted consistently. I want quality over quantity and I want to give you something that I feel is worth putting out. Please bear with me! I tend to post little life updates and things on instagram (@hawkeye_official) and I usually say when a chapter is close to being published if I have the chance to. 
> 
> Anywho! Thanks for sticking around this far! I promise there is more to come, I just can't promise when there will be more until I sort of get my life back in order (hopefully that will come with my assignments and things this quarter?)!


	11. Okay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where tony kind of actually helps a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HERE!! Sorry I made you wait so long. My explanation is at the bottom.

_“Clint Barton, Hawkeye, released a statement this morning discussing his diagnosis. According to his post on Facebook, the archer has been diagnosed with Leukemia. While we are unsure of his prognosis, our thoughts and prayers here at the station are with him._

_Today, I was hoping to get perspectives from different people on what they think about it all. I know that his cancer diagnosis has us all shocked, and a lot of people have mixed feeling about the entire situation. So, for this segment, I thought we could talk to a few people around the country about it to help process it. First up, we have Maria from Los Angeles._

_“Hi! First off, I want to say that I love your show and I love the advocacy that you do for different causes based on your topic of the day. Secondly, I just want to say that my heart is with the other Avengers right now as they help their friend. Taking care of a loved one with cancer is a lot harder than people think it is. It’s hard on everyone emotionally, and the time that you want to cherish with those people seems to go by much faster than it usually does. If I have one piece of advice from losing my spouse to cancer is to be there for them even when they drive you crazy, because one day they might not be there. You may think you hate it when they push your buttons, but you learn to love the way they do it.”_

_“I love that, Maria, thank you. Next up, we have Charlie from New York”_

_“Hi, uh, yeah, I think after all that happened in New York, he kind of deserves this. Maybe it’s the universe getting back at him for all the deaths he’s responsible for. I, personally, think he deserves to suffer. I’m surprised that after all the hospitals went through in the aftermath of the Battle of New York that the doctors and nurses even want to help him. He’s no hero and--”_

 

“What the hell?” Bucky asked, quickly turning off the podcast Clint was listening to. 

 

“Turn it back on, he had some very valid points and I’d like to hear the rest of it,” the archer said, fixing his hat as his nervous twitch.

 

“Why are you listening to that shit? Is it really worth it, Clint?” The soldier asked, crossing his arms. 

 

“He was very specific, and he had a point,” he retorted and pulled his blankets up higher, like a child hiding from something they knew they shouldn’t have been doing. 

 

Bucky was quiet for a very, very long moment while he stared and studied Clint. “He was wrong, New York was not your fault. If you think it is your fault, then you are a fucking hypocrite. If New York was your fault, then everything I’ve ever done that you’ve said wasn’t my fault is my fault. You can sit here and self-loathe all you want, trying to make yourself feel bad for being sick, but it wasn’t your fucking fault. You getting sick, being sick, isn’t caused by what did or did not happen in the Battle of New York.”

 

There was a long pause where Bucky stared at Clint before he continued on his rant. 

 

“News got out, so what? I bet you five dollars next week this entire thing will have blown over because there will be something so much more dramatic in the news,” he continued, watching his boyfriend. “Have you focused on any of the comments that people have been leaving on your Facebook posts? And how everyone is wishing you well and good health? Or did you just go into the bad? Trying to feel sorry for yourself?”

 

“Why are you yelling at me?!” Clint finally fought back. 

 

“Why are you listening to that stuff, Clint?” Bucky threw back. “It’s complete and utter bullshit and you know it.”

 

“No, it’s not—“

 

“Yes, it is! You’ve fought so hard and you’ve done so well, you’re doing great right now, babe, and what the public thinks shouldn’t matter. Do you remember how mad you were when you saw me looking through comments and things? It’s the same thing, Clint.”

 

“I’m tired of fighting,” he snapped back, looking at his boyfriend. “You don’t get it, do you? I _hate_ this. I hate sitting here all day. I hate the chemo. I hate feeling useless. I’m over it.”

 

There was a harsh and awkward silence between the two, and Clint just stared at Bucky as he fumbled awkwardly for a response. 

 

“Clint, I--”

 

“I don’t care. Just leave, please.” 

 

Bucky opened his mouth to say more, but shut it and turned towards the door. He sighed heavily, shook his head and stepped out of the room, heading to the tower. 

 

***

 

“We need to get him out of that fucking hospital,” Bucky said as he stepped into Tony’s lab. He sounded angry and desperate, unsure of what else to do for his boyfriend.

 

“Well, yeah. I already figured that out,” Tony said, pulling himself away from his tablet to look up at the soldier. “What do you want me to do? Everything Steve told me I probably shouldn’t have done?”

“What did he tell you not to do?” Bucky asked with a quizzical look on his face.

 

“I’m not confirming nor denying anything I may have already done, but Steve told me that I shouldn’t have the world’s most qualified cancer doctors on the payroll, nor that I should um... make changes to his current room in the tower so that it’s... well... more livable?”

 

“So,” Bucky started, trying to put the pieces together in his head, “you’re basically saying that if I can get him checked out of the hospital, there may or may not be a place here for him to stay?”

 

“I’m saying that if you get him checked out of the hospital and get him to sign a release on his medical records, then there’s potentially more that we can do for him than what the hospital can provide, yes.” Tony nodded, looking at Bucky. “There are new technologies and other options we might be able to try.”

 

“But they aren’t just going to let him out of the hospital,” Bucky said, running his fingers through his hair. “It can’t be that simple Tony. I can’t just check him out, they’ll think it's a suicide mission or something and he’s already signed onto the care that he’s getting.”

 

“Well, yeah, they aren’t going to let _you_ check him out of the hospital. You’d have to be married to pull that off, and you two have worse commitment issues than I have, which is saying a lot,” Tony said. He paused realizing that Bucky hadn’t really found it all that funny, then shook his head. “You could either try to convince him to marry you and you check him out of the hospital, or you could go the easy route and convince him to check himself out of the hospital.” 

 

“I could do that, but he’s stuck on his brother sticking around long enough to see if he’s a match,” the soldier sighed, looking annoyed. “And if he is a match, then sticking around long enough to actually do the bone marrow transplant.”

 

“How do you know that he’s stuck on that? Does Clint even know what the other options are?”

 

“Do you even know what the other options are?” Bucky pointed out.

 

“I-- I mean we have some ideas. Everything would be experimental--”

 

“Tony--”

 

“Look, as much as I want to brag to you about how much we have been able to find in the past month or so, I honestly think that we need to have some sort of come to Jesus meeting,” Stark said, taking a sip of his coffee. “We’ve all been busy trying to figure out a way to cure him, or whatever, and I think there are viable options that we need to discuss.”

 

Bucky rubbed his face, obviously tired and stressed out. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Tony questioned. 

 

“I don’t know, Tony. He’s exhausted and depressed and listening to news stories and podcasts that are only making him more depressed. His brother showed up out of nowhere, and it’s like every bad thing Clint ever told me about him never happened. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to say, all I know is that I need to get him out of that fucking hospital. So help me God, if I need to break him out of that place, I will. Okay?”

 

Tony raised his eyebrows but really didn’t feel like questioning the Winter Soldier in that particular moment, so he simply responded; “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked it. It took a while to right because school and life got in the way. I was taking 18 credits and working 40 hours a week and really didnt have the energy to do anything. Then school ended and my internship started and my grandma went into hospice. All and all, these past few months have been a bit of a wild ride, but I hope to be posting more often!! I can't promise when the next chapter is going to be out, but I promise it won't be 6 months from now ;)


	12. Taking things into Consideration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Year, new resolutions. A biiiiiiigggg resolution I have is writing more and actually finishing this story!! There is plenty more to come.

Hospital time seemed to drag on longer than any Clint had ever experienced. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days and days felt like years.

He usually had someone there with him in the evenings, and that person was usually Bucky. But, seeing as though he told Bucky to leave, and Bucky actually left, time was going slower than ever. 

He considered texting his boyfriend, but his phone was across the room and he really didn’t feel like getting up. He thought about hitting the “call” button to ask one of the nurses to get it for him, but he really just didn’t care enough to do it. 

He was starting to feel like he didn’t care that much about anything. 

In his defense, the medications he was taking took a lot out of him. He was tired and moody, and he hurt in places he didn’t know he could hurt. While he had been sore before and he had been in the hospital countless times, there was nothing that compared to this. 

Instead of texting Bucky, he took a nap. When the nurse came in to ask him what he wanted for dinner, he refused. He just wanted to sleep without all the goddamn interruptions.

The nurse had brought him some dinner anyways. He ignored it. 

He woke up a few hours later with a groan, and slowly rolled to change positions. He turned on the TV and switched it to the cooking channel and watched a few seconds of it before he realized that someone was in the room with him. 

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. If it were Bucky or Steve, they would have already gotten up and poured him a glass of water. If it were Natasha, she’d make her presence known the second he stirred. Tony and Bruce didn’t visit that much, but they both knew to stay in his line of sight. 

“Visiting hours are over,” Clint said, licking horribly chapped lips. 

The constant beep of his machine continued, but other than that, he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. 

He slowly scanned the room. There weren’t many spots in the tiny room he couldn’t see, and those he couldn’t see were behind his bed and on either side of it. He pushed himself up enough to look behind him, and still, nothing. 

He still felt like someone was in there, that someone was watching, and he couldn’t quite figure out if the color of the room had actually morphed to an all-too-familiar shade of blue.

Loki.

It had to be Loki, right? There was a chill in the room and the lights looked bluer than normal, and the guy was a trickster after all. 

The archer slowly sunk out of bed and grabbed his phone off the table, wary of his surroundings. He quickly looked down at his notifications, only missing a text from Nat. 

[Code blue. I think he’s here.] Clint texted her.

***

“Where are you?” Natasha said when Bucky answered his phone. 

“Most people, even in this century, start a conversation with ‘hello’,” Bucky said, sounding unamused. 

“Shove it, Barnes. Answer my question. I’m pretty sure you’re not at the hospital and I’m at least an hour away.”

“Clint told me to leave. I thought I’d give him space for the night,” he told her, sighing. 

“I just got a code blue text. I need you to go check it out.” She said carefully. 

“Code blue?”

“Loki. Clint thinks he’s there.” 

“I thought he was in Asgard prison, or whatever?”

“It’s also Loki. Either way, I need you to go check it out. If he’s mad you came, blame it on me, but I can’t get there in a reasonable amount of time,” Natasha told him, voice level. 

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

***

Bucky showed up not 15 minutes later to find Clint sitting by the elevators in clear view of at least three people. A nurse was sitting with him, talking to him calmly like she was trying to distract him. 

The soldier sighed softly at the state of Clint, walked over to the archer and sat down in the chair next to his. 

“What are you doing here?” The blond all but snapped. 

“Natasha sent me,” he said, glancing him over. He was tense, on edge, and clearly not in the mood to have Bucky anywhere near him. “I’ll go check out your room, okay?” 

“It’s not like you know what to look for,” he heard the archer mutter as he pushed himself up, walking to the room despite the comment. It looked the same. Hardly anything had moved from its place since he’d been there earlier in the day. There was no blue tint to the room and he didn’t get a feeling that anything was off. He investigated for a few more minutes before going back to Clint. 

“There’s nothing in there,” Bucky started in a neutral tone. 

“Yes, there is!” Clint immediately interjected. 

“No, sweetheart, there’s not,” he said again, trying his hardest not to sound condescending or judging or anything like it. He knew Clint was in a bad mood and he knew that Clint wasn’t entirely fond of him at that moment. 

“Fuck you, Bucky. You don’t even know what to look for or what the fuck happened. You don’t get it! You don’t get to tell me that nothing is in there when I know that there is. Why don’t you mind your own fucking business for once and stop trying to control my life,” Clint said, glaring the soldier down. 

There was a long, quiet pause where Bucky just stared right back at him. 

“Are you done?” Bucky asked, raising a brow. He didn’t give Clint the opportunity to answer before he continued. “Think over what you just said, because everything you just said makes you sound like a complete asshole. I know what happened and I know what to look for. I do get it, Clint. I’ve been with you long enough to know what it means. I also know that you’re on some pretty strong drugs right now that cause halluc—“

“Of course you would blame it on the drugs! It’s not the drugs, Bucky!” He raised his voice, causing a couple of nurses to turn and make sure everything was okay. 

“There’s nothing in your room Clint. I’m not going to tell you that there’s nothing in your room if there isn’t anything in your room,” he frowned at Clint’s backlash and rubbed his face tiredly. He was getting to the point where he didn’t know what to say anymore. He didn’t know how to make things okay between them, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to give up yet. “I love you too much to see you get hurt in any way.”

“Just fucking leave, Bucky! I don’t want you here!” He growled back, and the soldier took a deep breath, sighing. 

“Look, you can be mad at me all you want. You can yell all you want, and you can push me away all you want. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, trying to be as patient as possible. “I want you to get the best and have the best, and everything that’s happening here is turning you into something you’re not. It’s fucked with your head in a lot of ways and it sucks to see you like this.”

“Yeah, well it sucks being like this,” he said with a slightly less snap, just generally annoyed. 

“I know, just tell me what I can do to help, okay? Do you want to leave the hospital? Sounds like Tony has something set up for you if you want to try something new?”

“But what about the bone marrow transplant? What if Barney is a match?” Clint asked, his mind racing. He couldn’t leave the hospital right now. He was just about at his month-long stay, and he wasn’t anywhere near ready to be checked out. His blood counts were still pretty bad and he was still taking antibiotics and there was a long list of things that they needed to check off before he could leave. It was going to be a lot more days in the hospital, a lot more discomfort and a lot more side effects. 

“Then Barney is a match. That doesn’t mean you have to do the transplant here in the hospital. There are options to consider, honey.”

“But what if I don’t want to consider those options?” He frowned. 

“Then you don’t have to. I would just really appreciate it if you did,” he explained, reaching out to grab Clint’s hand. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, but I do want you to think about it, okay? You don’t have to stay stuck in the hospital. We might be able to do something else. We can figure something else out. You could go stay at the tower and we could get Lucky to come to stay with you, and you might not be trapped to a room or chained to an IV bag. There are other options, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Clint said tiredly. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky said and rubbed his back. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay? I’ll stay the night and make sure you are safe.”

“Okay,” the archer said, letting Bucky help him up and back to bed. 

 

****

Over the next couple of days, Clint took a lot into consideration. Barney had come to visit him for a little bit, and the usual rotation of Avengers was in and out of the hospital. The press was finding each and every little detail out about him and creating the stupidest stories with some facts that weren’t even true. 

He had another chat with his therapist. Doctor Moore talked him through why Bucky had a right to be upset. Neither Clint nor Bucky were in an easy situation and Bucky was trying his best to keep a level head through everything. He was thinking even if the archer wasn’t. Clint quickly came to the realization that he was taking all of his frustrations out on Bucky because his mental health was in a really shitty place. 

He couldn’t process everything that he’d been feeling in the past couple of weeks. There were a lot of emotions he always shoved aside and never dealt with, but not dealing with them was becoming a bigger and bigger issue now that he couldn’t just leave for a mission and come back as nothing had ever happened. 

While his boyfriend was stubborn and often an asshole, he was also nothing but supportive and patient with him, and the fact that he had been taking everything out on him wasn’t helping anyone. 

“How was therapy?” Natasha asked, plopping on the chair in his room. 

“It was therapy,” Clint shrugged and picked at the lunch the nurse had delivered. 

“Descriptive,” the redhead nodded and looked him over. “What did you guys talk about?”

“The fight that I had with Bucky,” he said and looked back at her. 

“And what did she have to say?” Natasha asked, stealing a cooked carrot off his plate. 

“She told me that I was taking a lot of my frustration out on Bucky because he is an easy target.” He said, then continued when she just stared at him. “She thinks that I’m pushing him away because I’m avoiding my feelings. Which she’s right, I am. But it’s never been like this before, Tash. It feels like you all have a life outside this hospital and I’m just stuck and I might never leave. He doesn’t need that.”

“He doesn’t need you to tell him what he needs,” she pointed out. 

“And I know that,” he sighed. 

“I know you know that, but I think you need to hear it again and again and again because I don’t think you get it,” She told him. 

“He wants me to check out of the hospital and let Tony treat me like a test rabbit or whatever with one of his fancy doctors,” Clint frowned. 

“He wants you to be okay, Clint. He wants you to know that there are other things out there than being trapped in this depressing hospital room,” She pointed out. “I know he doesn’t always approach things in the most appropriate matter, but Tony tries to help. He thinks of you like family and he doesn’t want you to suffer like this.”

“I’m not suffering,” the archer said defiantly. 

“You’re in pain. The drugs that they have you on, they turn you into a different person, Clint. We are all worried about you.” She said, giving him a look that broke down the facade she always wore. 

“This, here, this is safe. This is what normal people go through when they are sick. I don’t know anything about those other treatments and we don’t know if it is going to make me better or worse and that scares me, okay, Natasha? I need time to think about it,” He huffed softly, looking over at his best friend. 

“And I get that. You can have time to think about it, you just need to think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” She said with a nod. “But just know that pushing Bucky away isn’t going to make things better. It's not going to make your time here go any faster, and it’s not going to keep you from going insane.”

“I’m not going insane,” the archer rolled his eyes.

“I barely spend a few hours here a week and it drives me crazy. You don’t even like hospitals. Used to, you would sneak out of medical and we would basically have to strap you down to keep you in there.” 

After their conversation, Clint had a little more confidence in trusting that it might be a good idea to leave the hospital and try other things. He wasn’t completely convinced, and sure, there were still a lot of kinks that needed to be worked out and conversations he was going to have to have with Doctor Jensen in order for him to feel okay leaving the hospital.

Natasha was right; before cancer, he hated the thought of even having to be at the hospital or in medical for more than a few minutes at a time. He’d always been ready to leave the moment he’d been checked in, so the reservations he suddenly had about leaving the hospital were surprising. 

So, instead of avoiding everything like he seemed to be doing recently, he decided to bring it up to Doctor Jensen. The doctor talked him through some of the different treatment options that were available that the hospital didn’t or couldn’t offer there for a variety of reasons (mostly insurance related). They could wait for a donor, or Clint could get himself discharged from the hospital and try whatever new and fancy thing Tony’s doctor had. If it didn’t seem like a good idea, or things weren’t going as well as they had hoped or planned for, he could always check himself back into the hospital. There were risks of leaving the hospital, of course, but Clint was going to add it to the list of things he needed to think about. 

The list of things that he had plenty of time to think about, but avoided thinking about because he didn't want to think about the things he had to think about. 

Alas, he had a lot of things to think about and debate over, but he decided to get a copy of his medical records and let Bucky take them to the tower. He let Tony’s doctor and Bruce look over them. They all had options to consider, and maybe, just maybe, it would turn out alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking around this long. I can't believe I started writing this over a year ago, and I have loved writing, rewriting, and editing this story. I have a goal to post at least a chapter a month, so hopefully, the next update isn't going to be too far from now! Thank you for all your lovely comments!


End file.
